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BOOKS 


BY  THE 

REV.    HORATIUS    BONAR,    D.  D. 

+ 

Cts. 

THE  NIGHT   OF  WEEPING 40 

THE  MORNING  OF  JOY 50 

THE  STORY  OF  GRACE 40 

TRUTH  AND  ERROR 50 

MAN,  HIS  RELIGION  AND  HIS  WORLD 50 

THE   ETERNAL   DAY 60 

THE  BIBLE   HYMN  BOOK 60 

THE  DESERT   OF  SINAI 1.00 

THE  LAND   OF  PROMISE 1.25 

HYMNS   OF  FAITH  AND   HOPE,  let  Series 1.00 

DO.              DO.                  DO.    2d  Series 1.00 

GOD'S  WAY   OF  PEACE 50 

FAMILY  SERMONS 1.50 

♦ 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 


FAMILY  SERMONS. 


BY 


HORATIUS    BONAR,  D.   D., 

KELSO. 


NEW  YORK : 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND   BROTHERS, 

No.    530    BROADWAY. 

1863. 


PREFACE. 

These  Sermons  are  short;  and  will,  on  that 
account,  be  found  the  more  suitable  for  family 
reading.  They  are  fifty-two  in  number,  in  order 
to  furnish  one  for  every  Sabbath  in  the  year. 
They  are  not  upon  family  duties ;  but  are  rather 
meant  as  statements  of  the  glorious  gospel  in 
some  of  its  manifold  aspects,  as  "  the  gospel  of 
the  grace  of  God." 

Kelso,  Dee.  19.  1862. 


CONTENTS. 


i. 

BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 
John  i.  14. — "  The  Word  was  made  flesh."    .  .1 

IL 

•NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 
Luke  iv.  19. — "  The  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord."    .  .  »    11 

III. 

THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE, 

1  John  i.  2. — "  The  Life  was  manifested."    .  .  ♦  .20 

IV. 

THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 

1  John  i.  2. — "  The  Life  was  manifested."    .  ,  •  .26 

V. 

DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 
1  Cor.  i.  24.— "  Christ  .  .  the  wisdom  of  God."      .  .  .88 


V1U  CONTENTS. 

VI. 
DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

Cor.  i.  24.— "  Christ  ..  the  wisdom  of  God."      .  .  .41 

VII. 

THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR   BANISHMENT. 
JonN  x.  23. — "Jesus  walked  in  the  temple,  in  Solomon's  porch."   .     48 

VIII. 

THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT. 
John  x.  23. — "Jesus  walked  in  the  temple,  in  Solomon's  porch."    .     56 

IX. 

THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 
Luke  xxii.  27. — "  I  am  among  you,  as  he  that  serveth."     .  ,     64 

X. 

THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 
Luke  xxii.  27. — M I  am  among  you,  as  he  that  serveth."       ,  .    70 

XI. 

CHRIST  THE  HEALER. 
Matt.  ix.  21.—"  If  I  may  but  touch  his  garment,  I  shall  be  whole."    79 

XII. 

CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER. 

Jons  xiii.  10. — "  He  that  is  washed  needeth  not,  save  to  wash  bis 

feet,  but  is  clean  every  whit. "    .  .  .  ,  .87 

XIII. 

THE  SURETY'S  BAPTISM. 

Luke  xii.  60. — "  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ;  and  how  am 

I  btraitened  till  it  be  accomplished  !"      .  .  .  .     % 


CONTENTS.  IX 

XIV. 

PAGE 

THE  SURETY'S  BAPTISM. 

Luke  xii.  50. — "  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with ;  and  how 

am  I  straitened  till  it  be  accomplished  I "  .  .  .102 

XV. 

THE  SURETY'S  SORROW. 
John  xii.  27. — "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled."   ....  108 

XVI. 

THE  SURETY'S  THIRST. 

John  xix.  28. — "  Jesus  saith,  I  thirst."  ....  119 

XVII. 

THE  SURETY'S  THIRST. 

John  xix.  28. — "  Jesus  said,  I  thirst."  ....  125 

XVIII. 

THE  SURETY'S  THIRST. 

John  xix.  28. — "  Jesus  said,  I  thirst."  •  •  ♦  «  132 

XIX. 

THE  SURETY'S  CROSS. 
Gal.  vi.  14. — "  The  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  «  *  138 

XX. 

THE  SURETY'S  CROSS. 
Gal.  vi.  14. — "  The  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.''  •  •  148 

XXI. 

THE  CROSS  THE  EXPRESSION  OF  MAN'S  UNBELIEF. 
LuKExxiii.  21. — "They  cried,  saying,  Crucify  him!  crucify  him!  "  157 


X  CONTENTS. 

XXII. 

LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH  DEATH. 

John  xii.  24. — M  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  a  corn  of 
wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone :  but  if  it 
die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit."  ....  168 

XXIII. 
LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH  DEATH. 

John  xii.  24. — "Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  a  corn  of 
wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone :  but  i'*  ;t 
die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit."  .  .  .  175 

XXIV. 
THE  RISEN  CHRIST  AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE. 

Col.  iii.  1. — "If  ye  then  be  risen  wTith  Christ,  seek  those  things 
which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
God.''        ........  185 

XXV. 

THE  RISEN  CHRIST  AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE. 

Col.  iii.  1. — "  If  ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those  things 
which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
God." 194 

XXVI. 

FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST. 

John  xx.  9. — "  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have 

believed."  .......  202 

XXVII. 

CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD. 

Lev  viii.  22,  23. — "  And  ho  brought  the  other  ram,  the  ram  of  con- 
secration :  and  Aaron  and  his  sons  laid  their  hands  upon  the 
head  of  the  ram.  And  he  slew  it ;  and  Moses  took  of  the  blood 
of  it,  and  put  it  upon  the  tip  of  Aaron's  right  ear,  and  upon  the 
thumb  of  his  ri^'ht  hand,  and  upon  the  great  toe  of  his  right 
foot."        .  .  .  .  .212 


CONTENTS.  XI 

XXVIII. 

A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 
John  xx.  14. — "  And  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus.'*     .  .  .  224 

XXIX. 

SELF  OK  CHRIST  ;    WHICH  IS  IT  ? 

Rom.  xiv.  7-9. — "  For  none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself.  For  whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ; 
and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord  :  whether  we  live 
therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's.  For  to  this  end  Christ  both 
died,  and  rose,  and  revived,  that  he  might  be  Lord  both  of  the 
dead  and  living."  ......  235 

XXX. 

PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS,  AND  THEIR  CURE. 

Luke  xxiv.  40. — "When  the  Lord  had  thus  spoken,  he  shewed  them 

his  hands  and  his  feet."  .....  249 

XXXI. 

PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS,  AND  THEIR  CURE. 

Luke  xxiv.  40, — "  When  the  Lord  had  thus  spoken,  he  shewed  them 

his  hands  and  his  feet."  .  .  •  .  .  255 

XXXII. 
CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD. 


2  Cok.  vi.  14. — "  What  fellowship  hath  righteousness  with  unright- 
eousness ?  " 
Jas.  iv.  4. — "  The  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God.''        .  263 

XXXIII. 

THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

Eph.  ii.  7. — "  That  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might  shew  the  exceeding 
riches  of  his  grace,  in  his  kindness  toward  us  through  Christ 
Jesus."        ........  273 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

XXXIV. 

THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

Eph.  ii.  7. — "  That  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might  shew  the  exceeding 
riches  of  his  grace,  in  his  kindness  toward  us  through  Christ 
Jesus. "    ......  ,  .  282 

XXXV. 

THE  SINCERITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION. 

Gen.  vi.  6. — "  It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the 

earth,  and  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart."  .  .  .  293 

XXXVI. 

THE  SINCERITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION. 

Gen.  vi.  6. — "  It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the 

earth,  and  it  grieved  him  at  his  heart."  .  .  .  302 

XXXVII. 

THE  SINCERITY  OF  DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS. 

Ezek.  xxxiii.  10,  11. — "  Therefore,  0  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto 
the  house  of  Israel,  Thus  ye  speak,  saying,  If  our  transgressions 
and  our  sins  he  upon  us,  and  we  pine  away  in  them,  how  should 
we  then  live  ?  Say  unto  them,  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I 
have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  but  that  the 
wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live  :  turn  ye,  turn  ye,  from  your 
evil  ways ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  0  house  of  Israel  ?  ''       ,  .  311 

XXXVIII. 
THE  SINCERITY  OF  DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS. 

Ezek.  xxxiii.  10,  11. — "Therefore,  0  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto 
the  house  of  Israel,  Thus  ye  speak,  saying,  If  our  transgressions 
and  our  sins  be  upon  us,  and  wo  pine  away  in  them,  how  should 
we  then  live  ?  Say  unto  them,  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I 
have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  but  that  the 
wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live  :  turn  ye,  turn  ye,  from  your 
evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  0  house  of  Israel  ?  "       .  .  819 


contents.  xiii 

XXXIX. 

THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST. 

Mark  iii.  28-30. — "  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  All  sins  shall  be  forgiven 
unto  the  sons  of  men,  and  blasphemies  wherewith  soever  they 
shall  blaspheme ;  but  he  that  shall  blaspheme  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  hath  never  forgiveness,  but  is  in  clanger  of  eternal  dam- 
nation :  because  they  said,  He  hath  an  unclean  spirit."  .  330 

XL. 

THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH. 

1  John  v.  16,  17. — "  If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin  a  sin  which  is 
not  unto  death,  he  shall  ask,  and  he  shall  give  him  life  for  them 
that  sin  not  unto  death.  There  is  a  sin  unto  death  ;  I  do  not 
say  that  he  shall  pray  for  it.  All  unrighteousness  is  sin  ;  and 
there  is  a  sin  not  unto  death."     .....  340 

XLI. 

THE  THREE  WITNESSES. 

1  John  v.  6,  6. — "  Who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but  he  that 
believeth  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God?  This  is  he  that  came 
by  water  and  blood,  even  Jesus  Christ :  not  by  water  only,  but 
by  water  and  blood.  And  it  is  the  Spirit  that  beareth  witness, 
because  the  Spirit  is  truth."         .....  348 

XLII. 

THE  DIVINE  BANQUET. 

Lev.  xxi.  22.— "He  shall  eat  the  bread  of  his  God,  both  of  the 

most  holy,  and  of  the  holy."        .....  858 

XLIII. 

BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST. 

John  xii.  1-3. — "  Then  Jesus,  six  days  before  the  passover,  came  to 
Bethany,  where  Lazarus  was  which  had  been  dead,  whom  he 
raised  from  the  dead.  There  they  made  him  a  supper;  and 
Martha  served :  but  Lazarus  was  one  of  them  that  sat  at  the 
table  with  him.  Then  took  Mary  a  pound  of  ointment  of 
spikenard,  very  costly,  and  anointed  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  wiped 
his  feet  with  her  hair :  and  the  house  was  filled  with  the  odour 
of  the  oiniment."  ......  368 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

XLIV. 
THE  CHURCH'S  WIDOWHOOD. 

Luke  xviii.  3. — "  And  there  was  a  widow  in  that  city  ;  and  she  came 

unto  him,  saying,  Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary.''  .  .  376 

XLV. 

THE  CHURCH'S  WIDOWHOOD. 

Luke  xviii.  3. — "  And  there  was  a  widow  in  that  city  :  and  she  came 

unto  him,  saying,  Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary."  .  .  385 

XLV!. 

THE  WORLD'S  ORACLES. 
Zeck.  x.  2. — "  The  idols  have  spoken  vanity."  .  ,  .  394 

XLVII. 

THE  VAIN  WISH. 

Num.  xxiii.  10. — "Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let 

my  last  end  be  like  his."  .....  408 

XLVIII. 

THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL. 

Luke  xx.  36. — "  Neither  can  they  die  any  more."      .  •  .  416 

XLIX. 

LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

Deut.  iii.  23-29. — "  And  I  besought  the  Lord  at  that  time,  saying, 
0  Lord  God,  thou  hast  begun  to  shew  thy  servant  thy  greatness, 
and  thy  mighty  hand ;  for  what  God  is  there  in  heaven  or  in 
earth,  that  can  do  according  to  thy  works,  and  according  to  thy 
might?  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  over,  and  see  the  good  land  that 
is  beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly  mountain,  and  Lebanon.  But  the 
Lord  was  wroth  with  me  for  yoursakcs,  and  would  not  hear  me  : 
and  the  Lord  said  unto  me,  Let  it  suffico  thee ;  speak  no  more 
unto  me  of  this  matter.  Get  thee  up  into  the  top  of  Pisgah,  and 
lift  up  thine  eyes  westward,  and  northward,  and  southward,  and 
eastward,  and  behold  it  with  thine  eyes:  for  thou  shalt  not  go 
over  this  Jordan.  But  charge  Joshua,  and  encourage  him,  and 
strengthen  him  :  for  ho  shall  go  over  before  this  people,  and  ho 
shall  cause  them  to  inherit  the  land  which  thou  shalt  see.  '  So 
we  abode  in  the  valley  over  against  Beth-poor.''  .  .  424 


CONTENTS.  XV 

L. 

CHKIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

2  Cob.  v.  17. — "  If  any  man  (one)  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature 
(there  is  a  new  creation  to  him) ;  old  things  are.  passed  away ; 
behold,  all  things  are  become  new."         .  .  .  435 

LI. 

APOSTOLIC  SIGHS. 

1  Cor.  iv.  8. — "  I  would  to  God  ye  did  reign,  that  we  also  might 
reign  with  you."  ...  »  448 

LII. 

THE  CHURCH'S  AMEN. 

Rev.  xxii.  20,  21. — "  He  which  testifieth  these  things  saith,  Surely  I 
come  quickly  :  Amen.  Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus.  The  grace 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all.    Amen."        .  .  456 


SEEMON  I. 

* 

BETHLEHEM   AND   ITS   GOOD   NEWS. 

"  The  Word  was  made  flesh." — John  i.  14. 

There  was  nothing  great  about  Bethlehem.  It  was 
"little  among  the  thousands  of  Judah"  (Mic.  v.  2)  ; 
perhaps  but  a  shepherd- village  or  small  market- 
town  ;  yet  there  the  great  purpose  of  God  became 
a,  fact;  "The  Word  was  made  flesh." 

It  is  in  facts  that  God's  purposes  come  to  us,  that 
we  may-take  hold  of  them  as  real  things.  It  is  into 
facts  that  God  translates  his  truth,  that  it  may 
be  visible,  audible,  tangible.  It  is  in  facts  (as  in  so 
many  seeds)  that  God  embodies  his  good  news,  that 
a  little  child  may  grasp  them  in  his  hand.  So  was 
it  with  the  miracle  of  our  text.  God  took  his 
eternal  purpose  and  dropped  it  over  Bethlehem  in 
the  form  of  a  fact,  a  little  fragment  of  human 
history.  Over  earth,  the  first  promise  had  been 
hovering,  for  four  thousand  years,  till  at  last  it 
rested  over  Bethlehem,  as  if  it  said,  "  This  is  my 
rest ;  here  will  I  dwell." 


L  BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

The  city  is  poor  rather  than  rich.  It  is  not 
without  its  attractions ;  but  these  are  of  the  more 
homely  kind.  Its  scenes  are  not  stately ;  its  hills  are 
not  lofty;  its  plains  are  not  wide;  its  slopes  are 
rocky ;  it  is  not  like  the  city  of  the  Great  King, 
beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth. 
Yet  there  "the  Word  was  made  flesh." 

It  has  no  palace  nor  temple ;  only  an  inn  for  the 
travellers  passing  between  Hebron  and  Jerusalem ; 
its  dwellers  are  not  priests  nor  princes ;  it  is  not  a 
sacred  city,  and  is  but  little  noted  in  history.  Yet 
there,  not  at  Jerusalem,  "  the  Word  was  made 
flesh." 

But  its  lowliness  makes  it  more  suitable  as  the 
birthplace  of  Him  who,  though  he  was  rich,  for  our 
sakes  became  poor.  And  all  about  it  seems  to  suit 
him  too.  It  is  "  the  house  of  bread,"  fit  dwelling 
for  him  who  is  "the  bread  of  God."  Its  old  name 
was  Ephratah,  "  the  fruitful,"  as  if  pointing  to  the 
fruitful  one.  At  its  gate  is  the  well  of  JJavid ;  and 
not  far  off  are  the  pools  of  Solomon,  which  pour 
their  water  into  Jerusalem,  telling  us  of  the  liv- 
ing water,  and  the  river  whose  streams  make  glad 
the  city  of  our  God.  The  gardens  of  Solomon 
are  also  hard  by,  speaking  to  us  not  only  of  "the 
garden  of  the  Lord,"  and  the  second  Adam,  and  the 
tree  of  life,  but  giving  us  the  earthly  scenes  (which 
are  the  patterns  of  the  heavenly)  which  the  "  Song 
of  songs"  describes.     (Song  of  Sol.  ii.  12,  13.) 

In  walking  through  its  streets,  or  wandering  over 
its  heights,  one  seems  to  read  text  after  tqxt,  written, 


BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  3 

not  with  an  iron,  but  a  golden  pen,  upon  its  hills 
and  rocks.  "Unto  us  a  Child  is  born/'  seems  in- 
scribed on  one  ;  "  Unto  us  a  Son  is  given/'  on  an- 
other; "Unto  you  is  born  a  Saviour/'  on  a  third  ; 
"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest/'  on  a  fourth  ;  the 
name  of  Jesus  upon  all.  The  city  is  not  now  what 
it  was,  yet  there  it  sits  upon  the  northern  face  of 
its  old  height  ;  the  one  town  in  Palestine  still  pos- 
sessed exclusively  by  those  who  call  themselves  by 
the  name  of  Christ. 

Bethlehem  is  not  named  in  our  text ;  but  you 
cannot  read  the  verse  without  being  transported  to 
that  city.  "In  the  beginning  was  the  Word/'  car- 
ries you  up  into  heaven,  and  back  into  past  infinity. 
"  The  Word  was  made  flesh/'  brings  you  down  to 
earth  and  the  finite  things  of  time ;  to  the  manger, 
and  the  stable,  and  "the  young  Child."  The  shep- 
herds are  gone ;  the  wise  men  have  departed  to  their 
own  country  ;  the  glory  has  passed  up  again  into 
heaven  ;  the  angels  have  left ;  the  song  of  the  plain 
has  ceased  ;  the  star  has  disappeared, — the  star  of 
which  Balaam  spoke,  as  yet  to  sparkle  somewhere 
in  these  eastern  heavens,  and  which  Micah  may  be 
said  to  have  fixed  and  hung  over  the  city,  when  he 
named  the  name  of  Bethlehem  as  the  birthplace  of 
the  coming  King, — but  the  city  itself  is  still  there, 
rooted  to  its  old  spot ;  not,  like  Rachel's  tomb  hard 
by,  a  memorial  of  death  and  sorrow,  but  a  remem- 
brancer of  joy  and  peace,  a  witness  of  the  everlast- 
ing life  which  came  down  from  heaven. 

At  Bethlehem  our  world's  history  begins.     All 


4  BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

before  and  after  the  birth  of  the  young  child  takes 
its  colour  from  that  event.  As  the  tree,  rising  from 
a  small  root  or  seed,  spreads  its  branches,  and  with 
them  its  leaves,  its  blossoms,  its  fruit,  its  shade, 
north,  south,  east,  and  west  ;  so  has  this  obscure 
birth  influenced  all  history,  sacred  and  secular,  be- 
fore and  behind .  That  history  is  an  infinite  coil  of 
events,  interwoven  in  endless  intricacies,  apparently 
with  a  thousand  broken  ends ;  now  upward,  now 
downward,  now  backward,  now  forwrard  ;  but  the 
ravelled  coil  is  one,  and  its  centre  is  Bethlehem. 
The  young  Child  there  is  the  interpreter  of  all  its 
mysteries.  As  He  is  "the  beginning  of  the  crea- 
tion of  God,"  the  "  first-begotten  of  the  dead,"  so 
is  he  the  beginning  and  ending,  the  centre  and 
circumference  of  human  history.  "  Christ  is  all 
and  in  all;"  and  as  such,  from  the  manger  to  the 
throne,  he  is  the  incarnation  of  Jehovah's  purposes, 
the  interpretation  of  the  divine  actings,  and  the 
revelation  of  the  heavenly  mysteries. 

Few  statements  contain  in  them  such  a  world  of 
truth  as  this  of  our  text.  Let  us  see  (I.)  what  it  is, 
(II.)  what  it  teaches. 

I.  What  it  is. — The  "  Word"  is  the  eternal  name 
for  the  young  Child  of  Bethlehem.  He  is  so  called 
becausehe  istherevealer  of  the  Father,  the  exponent 
of  Godhead.  He  is  so  now:  he  was  so  in  the  clays 
of  his  flesh;  he  has  been  so  from  eternity.  The 
names  Christ,  Immanuel,  Jesus,  are  his  earthly 
ones;  his  names  in  time,  connected  with  his  in- 


BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  5 

carnate  condition  ;  but  the  names  "Word"  and 
"  Son"  are  expressive  of  his  eternal  standing,  his 
eternal  relationship  to  the  Father.  What  he  was 
in  time  and  on  earth,  that  same  he  has  been  in 
heaven  and  from  eternity.  The  glory  which  he 
had  "  before  the  world  was"  (John  xvii.  5),  and  of 
which  he  "emptied  himself"  (Phil.  ii.  7,  see  Greek), 
wTas  the  glory  of  the  eternal  Word,  the  everlasting 
Son.  As  the  eternal  revealer  of  Godhead,  the 
"brightness  of  Jehovah's  glory,  and  the  express 
image  of  his  person/'  his  name  ever  was  The  Word; 
as  the  declarer  of  the  mind  of  God  to  man,  his  name 
is  no  less  The  Word,  with  this  addition,  "  the 
Word  made  flesh ." 

"  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word,"  is  the  divine, 
or  heavenly,  or  upper  portion  of  the  mystery;  "the 
Word  was  made  flesh,"  is  the  human,  the  earthly, 
the  lower.  It  is  this  latter  that  so  specially  con- 
cerns us ;  for  without  it  the  former  was  nothing  to 
us.  God  manifest  in  flesh  is  the  "great  mystery  of 
godliness/'  which  links  together  the  creature  and  the 
Creator ;  which  brings  down  to  the  sinner's  side  the 
waters  of  the  eternal  well.  It  is  this  that  makes 
the  inaccessible  and  unapproachable  Godhead  ac- 
cessible and  approachable  ;  the  unseen  becoming 
the  seen, — nay,  the  most  seen  of  all  ;  the  far- 
off  becoming  the  near, — nay,  the  nearest  of  all ; 
the  incomprehensible  becoming  comprehensible, — 
nay,  the  most  comprehensible  of  all,  a  little  child, 
— a  child  of  poverty  and  weakness,  suckled  at  a 
woman's  breast,  and  resting  upon  a  woman's  knee. 


C  BETHLEHEM  AXD  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

The  Word  was  made  flesh  !  He  became  truly 
man  ; — man  all  over,  within  and  without,  in  body, 
soul,  and  spirit ;  in  everything  but  sin.  All  the 
nations  of  the  earth  God  hath  made  of  one  blood, 
and  of  that  one  Hood  was  the  Word  made  partaker, 
becoming  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh  ; 
his  soul  truly  human,  not  superhuman  nor  celestial; 
his  body  of  the  very  substance  of  the  Virgin, — true, 
real,  yet  holy  flesh  ;  the  holiness  not  making  him 
less  truly  flesh,  and  the  flesh  not  making  him  less 
truly  holy. 

Thus  Bethlehem  becomes  the  link  between  heaven 
and  earth.  God  and  man  meet  there,  and  look 
each  other  in  the  face.  In  the  young  child  man 
sees  God,  and  God  sees  man.  There  is  joy  in 
heaven,  there  is  joy  on  earth,  and  the  same  song 
suits  both, — "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest ;  on 
earth  peace  and  good-will  towards  men."  Jacob's 
ladder  is  now  firmly  planted  on  the  earth.  God 
is  coming  down  ;  man  is  going  up  ;  angels  are  in 
attendance  upon  both.  The  seed  of  the  woman  has 
come.  God  has  taken  man's  side  against  the  old 
serpent.  He  has  not  only  knocked  at  man's  door, 
but  he  has  come  in.  The  winter  is  past ;  the  rain 
is  over  and  gone  ;  the  day  has  broken  ;  the  sha- 
dows have  fled  away  ! 

II.  What  it  teaches. — The  angel  was  the  first  to 
interpret  it, — "  Behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings 
of  great  joy."  Yes,  tidings  of  peace  and  good-wdll ; 
tidings  of  God's  free  love  \   tidings  of  his  design  to 


BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS  7 

pitch  once  more  his  tabernacle  here,  and  to  take 
up  his  abode  with  the  sons  of  men. 

It  teaches  us  God's  thoughts  of  peace  ;  for  incar- 
nation means  this  at  least,  that  God's  desire  is  to 
bless  us,  not  to  curse  ;  to  save,  not  to  destroy.  He 
seeks  reconciliation  with  us  ;  nay,  he  has  brought 
about  the  reconciliation.  He  has  not  merely  made 
proposals  of  peace,  and  sent  them  to  us  by  the 
hand  of  an  ambassador  ;  but  he  has  himself  come  to 
us  bearing  his  own  message,  and  presenting  himself 
to  us,  in  our  nature,  as  his  own  ambassador.  In- 
carnation is  not,  indeed,  the  whole,  but  it  is  much. 
It  is  the  voice  of  love,  the  message  of  peace.  God 
himself  is  both  the  speaker  and  the  maker  of 
peace. 

The  message  that,  comes  to  us  from  Bethlehem 
is  a  very  decided  one.  It  is  not  a  finished  one  ;  it 
was  only  finished  at  the  cross  ;  bat,  so  far  as  it 
goes,  it  is  quite  explicit ;  quite  unambiguous.  It 
means  love,  peace,  pardon,  eternal  life.  The  lesson 
taught  us  at  Bethlehem  is  the  lesson  of  grace  ;  the 
grace  of  God,  the  grace  of  the  Father  and  of  the 
Son.  We  may  learn  much,  indeed,  as  to  the  way 
of  life,  from  Bethlehem.  It  must  not,  indeed,  stand 
alone  ;  you  must  associate  it  with  Jerusalem  ;  you 
must  bring  the  cradle  and  the  cross  together.  But- 
still  it  teaches  us  the  first  part  of  the  great  lesson 
of  peace.  It  says,  though  not  so  folly  as  Gol- 
gotha, God  is  love.  The  beginning  is  not  the 
end,  but  still  it  is  the  beginning.  The  dawn  is 
not  the  noon,   but  still  it  is  the  dawn.     Bethle- 


8  BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

hem  is  net  Jerusalem,  but  still  it  is  Bethlehem. 
And  the  Prince  of  peace  is  there.  The  God 
of  salvation  is  there.  The  manifested  life  is 
there. 

Do  not  despise  Bethlehem.  Do  not  pass  it  by. 
Come  ;  see  the  place  where  the  young  child  lay. 
Look  at  the  manger  :  there  is  the  Lamb  for  the 
burnt- offering,  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.  These  little  tender  hands 
shall  yet  be  torn  ;  these  feet,  that  have  not  yet  trod 
this  rough  earth,  shall  be  nailed  to  the  tree.  That 
side  shall  yet  be  pierced  by  a  Roman  spear  ;  that 
back  shall  be  scourged  ;  that  cheek  shall  be  buf- 
feted and  spit  upon  ;  that  brow  shall  be  crowned 
with  thorns  ; — and  all  for  you  !  Is  not  this  love  ? 
Is  it  not  the  great  love  of  God  ?  And  in  this  love 
is  there  not  life  ?  And  in  this  life  is  there  not 
salvation,  and  a  kingdom,  and  a  throne  ? 

At  Bethlehem,  the  fountain  of  love  was  opened, 
and  its  waters  have  gushed  out  in  their  fulness.  The 
well  of  David  has  overflowed  the  earth,  and  the 
nations  now  may  drink.  The  good  news  have  gone 
forth  from  the  city  of  David,  and  all  the  ends 
of  the  earth  have  seen  the  salvation  of  our  God . 

Would  you  learn  the  wray  to  God  ?  Go  to  Beth- 
lehem. See  von  infant  :  It  is  God  :  the  Word 
made  flesh.  He  is  "  the  Way."  No  man  cometh 
to  the  Father  but  by  him.  Go  and  deal  with 
him.  So  shall  Bethlehem  be  to  you  the  gate  of 
heaven. 

Would  you  learn  the  vanity  of  earth.     Go  to 


BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  9 

yon  manger  where  the  Lord  of  glory  lies.  That  is 
reality  ;  all  else  is  hollow.  What  a  vain  world  is 
this  of  ours  !  Yon  manger  contains  the  only  thing 
on  earth  of  which  it  cannot  be  said,  "  Vanity  of 
vanities  ;   all  is  vanity." 

Would  you  have  a  safeguard  against  worldliness, 
and  sin,  and  error,  and  the  snares  of  the  last  days  ? 
Choose  and  keep  the  young  Child's  companionship. 
Wherever  you  go,  be  like  Joseph  and  Mary,  when 
they  fled  into  Egypt  ;  take  the  young  Child  with 
you.  Is  it  into  the  world's  business  ?  Take  the 
young  Child  with  you.  Is  it  into  its  philosophy 
and  literature  ?  Take  the  young  Child  with  you. 
Is  it  into  its  relaxations  and  amusements  ?  Take 
the  young  Child  with  you.  If  you  take  Him,  all  is 
right.  If  you  forget  to  do  so,  or  find  you  cannot, 
all  is  wrong. 

Would  you  learn  to  be  humble  ?  Go  to  Beth- 
lehem. There  the  highest  is  the  lowest ;  the  eter- 
nal Word  a  babe  ;  the  King  of  kings  has  not  where 
to  lay  his  head  ;  the  Creator  of  the  universe  sleeps" 
in  a  woman's  arms.  How  low  he  has  become  ;  how 
poor  !  Where  shall  we  learn  humility  if  not  here  ? 
All  earthly  pride  is  here  rebuked  and  put  to 
shame.  Be  not  proud,  says  yon  Bethlehem  man- 
ger. Be  clothed  with  humility,  say  the  swaddling- 
bands  of  yon  helpless  Child. 

Would  you  learn  to  be  self-denied  ?  Go  to  Beth- 
lehem. See  the  Word  made  flesh.  He  "  pleased 
not  himself."  Where  shall  we  find  such  self-denial 
as  at  the  cradle  and  the  cross  ?     Where  shall  we 


10  BETHLEHEM  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

read  a  lesson  of  self-sacrifice,  such  as  we  have  in 
him  who  made  himself  of  no  reputation ;  who 
chose  not  Jerusalem,  but  Bethlehem,  for  his  birth- 
place ;  not  a  palace  nor  a  temple,  but  a  stable  for 
his  first  earthly  home  ?  Shall  wTe  not  be  followers 
of  his  lowly  love  ?  Shall  we  not  deny  self  ?  Shall 
we  not  stoop  for  others  as  he  has  stooped  for  us  ? 


SERMON  II. 

NAZARETH    AND    ITS    GOOD    NEWS. 
:<The  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord." — Luke  iv.  19. 

It  is  as  a  "'preacher  of  the  gospel"  that  the  Lord 
here  announces  himself.  He  was  sent  of  the 
Father,  that  he  might  "  testify  the  gospel  of  the 
grace  of  God."  Both  in  that  which  he  spoke,  and 
in  that  which  he  did,  he  shewed  himself  the 
Revealer  of  the  free-love  of  God. 

Not  to  create  that  love,  nor  to  call  it  forth,  but 
to  reveal  it  ;  not  to  buy  it,  but  to  make  a  way  for 
its  reaching  us,  did  the  Son  of  God  take  flesh,  and 
live,  and  die.  It  was  as  the  messenger  of  peace 
between  God  and  man,  that  he  came  from  the 
Father,  and  "  dwelt  among  us."  It  was  as  the 
bringer  of  good  news,  that  he  was  born  at  Beth- 
lehem, and  died  on  Golgotha  ;  and  it  is  as  such 
that  he  "  stands  up  to  read '  in  the  synagogue  of 
Nazareth. 

This  Nazareth,  to  which  he  brought  his  first 
message  of  grace,  had  no  claim  for  such  favour  and 
honour.  It  was  not  one  of  the  holy  or  famous 
cities  of  the  Old  Testament.  It  was  neither  a  city 
of  refuse  nor  a  Levitical  citv.     It  had  no  name  in 


12  NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

Israel  in  former  days,  and,  when  the  Lord  made  it  his 
dwelling,  it  was  noted  for  its  evil,  not  for  its  good. 

Certainly  it  is  "  beautiful  for  situation,"  nestling 
in  the  heart  of  the  mountains  of  Galilee,  far  above 
the  broad  plains  on  either  hand,  yet  girt  in  with 
hills  on  all  sides  as  with  a  curtain,  which  shuts 
out  everything  of  earth,  and  leaves  nothing  for  its 
dwellers  to  gaze  upon,  but  the  blue  sky  above. 
Even  as  it  now  stands,  it  looks  fair,  though  its 
slopes  are  bare,  and  its  olives,  and  fig-trees,  and 
sycamores  are  few.  From  its  heights  how  exquisite 
the  prospect  around  us, — Hermon,  Tabor,  Carmel, 
the  hills  of  Gilead,  the  plain  of  Esdraelon,  with 
the  blue  of  the  Great  Sea  rilling  up  the  bay  of 
Acre,  into  which  the  Kishon  is  pouring  its  ancient 
waters. 

Yet  fair  as  it  lay  in  the  seclusion  of  its  mountain- 
dell,  it  was  full  of  sin  ;  nor  did  it  present  any 
attraction  to  the  Son  of  God,  save  that  which  the 
sick  man  does  to  the  physician,  when  "  the  whole 
head  is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  is  faint." 

But  where  sin  abounded,  there  grace  did  much 
more  abound  ;  and  it  was  this  abounding  grace 
that  now  visited  this  home  of  abounding  sin.  The 
Son  of  man  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost  ;  and  on  these  hills  of  Zebulon  we  find 
the  good  Shepherd  pursuing  his  stray  sheep,  bent 
upon  their  recovery,  as  if  they  had  been  the 
choicest  of  his  flock. 

It  is,  then,  to  Nazareth- sinners  that  the  first 
words  of  grace  are  spoken  ;  and  the  speaker  is  the 


NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  13 

Son  of  God  himself.  The  gracious  words  at  which 
the  synagogue  wondered,  are  the  words  of  "the  only 
begotten  of  the  Father ;"  and  they  to  whom  they  are 
addressed  are  not  the  best,  but  the  worst  specimens 
of  Israel,  the  inhabitants  of  a  city  where  there  was 
no  loveableness  to  attract  the  Saviour's  love,  no 
worth  to  invite  the  favour,  and  no  fitness  to  qualify 
for  the  honour  conferred. 

The  Lord  here,  quoting  Isaiah,  states  his  mission 
to  be  the  preaching  of  the  acceptable  year  of  Jeho- 
vah. Let  us  inquire  what  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord  is,  and  how  he  preached  it. 

I.    The  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord.     This  expres- 
sion corresponds  to  that  of  Paul,   "  the  accepted 
time,"  "  the  day  of  salvation '   (2  Cor.  vi.  2)  ;  and 
means  that  there  is  a  time  when  God  accepts  or 
shews  favour  to  the  sinner.      It  is  what  Ezekiel 
calls  "  the  time  of  love  ; '    what  our   Lord   calls 
"  the  time  of  visitation  '   (Luke  xix.  44)  ;  and  what 
we  usually  call  "  the  day  of  grace."     It  does  not 
refer  to  the  lifetime   of  an  individual,  or  to  any 
portion  of  that  lifetime,  but  to  the  whole  period 
during  which  God  is  exercising  mercy  upon  earth, 
a  period  which,  no   doubt,  began  when  the  first 
promise  announced  mercy  to  man,  but  which  might 
be  said  to  have  received  its  great  visible  commence- 
ment or  start,  when  "the  Word  was  made  flesh  ; ' 
or,  still  more  definitely,  when  he  went  forth  as 
"  the  sent "  of  the  Father,  to  proclaim  to  men  the 
(:  exceeding  riche?  of  the  grace  of  God."     Then  the 


14  NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.    • 

new  age  or  era  of  grace  began  ;  Jehovah's  "  accept- 
able year"  commenced  running  its  course. 

It  is  sometimes  called  a  day,  sometimes  a  year, 
sometimes  a  time  ;  implying  a  considerable  period  ; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  intimating  that  this  season 
has  an  end.  The  mercy  that  marks  it  will  not  always 
last.  At  the  appointed  time  the  long-suffering  will 
cease,  and  the  grace  be  transformed  into  vengeance, 
vengeance  as  true  and  as  terrible  as  has  been  the 
grace. 

Jehovah's  acceptable  year  is  the  season  during 
which  he  is  revealing  himself  as  the  "  Lord  God, 
merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant 
in  goodness  and  truth,  keeping  mercy  for  thousands, 
forgiving  iniquity,  and  transgression,  and  sin."  It 
is  the  season  during  which  he  is  shewing  himself 
able  to  save  to  the  uttermost,  and  to  quicken  the 
dead  in  sin  with  an  everlasting  life.  It  is  the 
season  during  which  he  is  giving  bread  to  the 
hungry,  and  water  to  the  thirsty,  and  health  to 
the  sick,  and  clothing  to  the  naked,  and  riches  to 
the  poor,  and  abundance  to  the  needy  ;  during 
which  he  is  forgiving  sin,  cleansing  guilt,  loosing 
chains,  opening  prisons,  finding  lost  ones,  welcoming 
prodigals,  receiving  sinners,  stretching  out  his  hand 
all  the  day  to  a  disobedient  and  gainsaying  people. 

Every  era  has  its  character,  and  the  character  of 
this  is  "  grace."  In  it  the  long-suffering  of  God 
gets  full  vent  to  itself,  and  his  almighty  love  is 
pouring  itself  down  upon  an  unworthy  world.  He 
lias  thrown  wide  open  both  his  home  and  heart. 


NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  15 

that  the  men  who  have  forsaken  both  may  return 
and  be  blest. 

If,  then,  the  special  characteristic  or  mark  of  this 
era  be  that  of  God's  "receiving  sinners/'  who  can 
hesitate  to  come,  or  doubt  as  to  his  own  personal 
welcome  ?  The  gracious  character  of  this  era  con- 
tinues to  the  very  last.  It  began  in  love,  and  it 
ends  in  love  ;  and,  not  the  less  so,  because  it  is  to  be 
succeeded  by  vengeance  and  wrath.  There  is  no 
diminution  of  the  blessing  ;  no  drying  up  of  the 
blessed  stream  ;  no  narrowing  of  the  heart  out  of 
which  the  gracious  wonders  come.  Nay,  as  rivers 
grow  fuller  and  deeper  in  passing  downward,  and 
as  they  are  widest  at  their  entrance  on  the  great 
ocean,  so  does  this  acceptable  year  preserve  its  cha- 
racter to  the  last,  and  the  free-love  which  marks  it 
seems  to  increase  and  enlarge,  as  the  time  of  the 
end  draws  nigh.  The  last  messages  of  grace  which 
the  Bible  contains,  and  which  are  specially  meant 
for  the  last  days,  are  the  fullest  and  the  largest  of 
all  ; — "  Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water 
of  life  freely."  Peter,  at  the  close  of  his  second 
epistle,  brings  out  this  blessed  truth,  when  he  tells 
us  the  reason  of  the  Lord's  delay, — "Account  the 
long-suffering  of  our  Lord,  salvation;"  and  never 
did  words  more  expressively  proclaim  the  yearning, 
the  compassion,  the  unabated  and  unchanging  ful- 
ness of  divine  tenderness  to  sinners,  than  when  they 
announced  through  the  lips  of  that  apostle,  that  "the 
Lord  is  not  slack  concerning  his  promise,  as  some 
men  count  slackness  ;  but  is  long- suffering  to  us- 


1Q  KAZAEETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

ward,  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  hut  that 
all  should  come  to  repentance"  (2  Peter  iii.  9). 

How  truly  are  all  the  parts  of  this  era  in  keeping 
with  each  other  !  And  is  not  this  a  fitting  close  to 
such  a  long,  long  day  of  grace,  a  noble  summing-up 
of  the  loving-kindnesses  and  tender  mercies  that 
have  been  unfolding  themselves  during  the  "  accept- 
able year  of  the  Lord." 

"  The  setting  sun  and  music  at  the  close, 
As  the  last  taste  of  sweets,  is  sweetest  last." 

And  here,  at  the  close  of  this  day  of  salvation,  we 
have  the  brightness  of  bright  sunset  made  brighter 
by  the  heavenly  music  and  the  last  long  peal  of  the 
silver  trumpet,  proclaiming  pardon,  and  life,  and 
favour  to  the  guiltiest  ;  bidding,  in  the  name  of 
the  long-suffering  Jehovah,  each  wanderer  welcome 
home  ! 

II.  How  Christ  preached  this  acceptable  year. — This 
preaching  of  the  acceptable  year  was  to  run  through 
his  whole  life  and  ministry.  It  was  to  be  their  sum 
and  their  burden  ;  their  beginning  and  their  end- 
ing ;  their  first  and  their  last. 

In  his  person  he  preached  it  ;  for  his  mere  pre- 
sence upon  earth  among  sinful  men  was  an  an- 
nouncement of  it.  Grace  and  truth  came  by  Jesus 
Christ  ;  grace  and  truth  shone  out  from  him  ;  so 
that  every  one  who  saw  him,  or  heard  of  him,  could 
not  but  know  that  this  was  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord.     So  long  as  the  Son  of  God,  the  only- 


NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  17 

begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth,  was 
upon  earth, — so  long  men  might  understand  that 
God  was  receiving  sinners  ;  for  they  that  saw  him 
saw  the  Father. 

He  preached  it  by  what  he  did.  He  went  about 
healing  all  manner  of  sicknesses,  and  all  manner  of 
diseases.  He  raised  the  dead  ;  he  cast  out  devils ; 
he  opened  the  eyes  of  the  blind  ;  he  unstopped  the 
ears  of  the  deaf ;  he  gave  feet  to  the  lame  ;  he  fed 
the  multitudes  ;  he  forgave  sins  and  received  sin- 
ners ;  he  sought  and  found  the  lost.  Each  one  of 
these  acts  spoke  of  the  divine  free-love  that  was 
now  richly  going  forth  towards  the  sons  of  men  ; 
not  condemning,  but  pardoning  ;  not  destroying, 
but  saving ;  not  repelling,  but  welcoming  the  wan- 
derer. Each  one  of  these  acts  preached  the  accept- 
able year  of  the  Lord,  and  said,  not  only  in  the 
name  of  the  Son,  but  of  the  Father  too, — "  Him 
that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wTise  cast  out." 

He  preached  it  by  what  he  did  not  do.  He  did 
no  deeds  of  terror,  and  wrought  no  miracles  of 
wrath  or  woe.  He  was  greater  than  Elijah,  yet  he 
called  down  no  fire  from  heaven ;  he  smote  the  land 
with  no  famine  ;  he  was  the  song  of  the  drunkard, 
the  object  of  reviling,  yet  not  one  stroke  of  ven- 
geance came  from  his  hand.  Was  not  this  the  in- 
timation of  the  gracious  errand  on  which  he  had 
come  ?  Did  it  not  say, — I  have  not  come  to  de- 
stroy men's  lives,  but  to  save  them  ?  And  even 
when  Peter  took  up  the  sword  in  his  behalf,  and 
smote  off  the  ear  of  Malchus,  did  he  not  heal  the 


18  NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS. 

wounded  man ;  as  if  to  confirm  this  grace  to  the  last, 
not  only  by  abstinence  from  self-vindication,  but 
by  returning  love  for  hatred  ;  thus  declaring  that 
no  amount  of  sin  in  man,  or  wrong  done  to  Him- 
self, could  alter  the  character  of  this  "  day  of  sal- 
vation," or  make  it  less  "  the  acceptable  year  of  the 
Lord  ?" 

He  preached  it  by  what  he  said.  His  words 
wrere  all  of  grace  ;  and  even  the  sharp  rebukes 
against  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were  the  warnings 
of  grace,  not  of  wrath.  Never  man  spake  like  this 
man  ;  crowds  hung  upon  him  to  hear  his  dis- 
courses ;  and  men  wondered  at  the  gracious  words 
which  proceeded  out  of  his  mouth.  When  he  said, 
"  I  am  come,  a  light  into  the  world,  that  whosoever 
believeth  on  me  should  not  abide  in  darkness,"  he 
was  preaching  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,  and 
saying,  This  is  the  time  when  God  is  receiving  sin- 
ners ;  so  that  all  who  are  in  darkness  are  welcome 
to  this  light.  When  he  said,  "Her  sins,  which  are 
many,  are  forgiven;"  and  again,  "Neither  do  I  con- 
demn thee  ;"  he  was  preaching  the  acceptable  year 
of  the  Lord,  and  saying,  Now  is  the  season  for  par- 
don ;  so  that  the  most  guilty  of  men  may  go  at 
once  to  God,  with  the  certainty  that  their  con- 
demnation shall  be  taken  away.  When  he  said,  "  I 
am  the  bread  of  life,  he  that  cometh  to  me  shall 
never  hunger,  and  he  that  believeth  on  me  shall 
never  thirst,"  he  was  preaching  the  acceptable  year 
of  the  Lord ;  po  that  the  hungriest  and  thirstiest  of 
the  sons  of  men  might  know  that  the  bread  of  God 


NAZARETH  AND  ITS  GOOD  NEWS.  19 

is  provided  for  them,  and  the  living  water  flowing 
out  to  quench  their  thirst.  And  when,  upon  the 
cross,  he  cried,  "Father,  forgive  them,"  and  again, 
"  It  is  finished,"  he  was  still  preaching  to  the  last 
the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,  and  announcing 
the  consummation  of  that  sacrifice,  by  means  of 
which  grace  had  been  identified  with  righteousness, 
and  righteousness  with  grace. 

It  is  still  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,  and 
Christ  still  preaches  it.  The  season  of  God's  free 
love  is  not  yet  over  ;  and  the  Son  of  God,  now 
seated  at  the  Father's  right  hand,  is  to  us  the  evi- 
dence and  seal  of  this.  His  sitting  on  the  mercy- 
seat,  his  continuing  on  the  throne  of  grace,  tells  us 
that  God  is  still  receiving  sinners.  And  this  is  the 
good  news  which  we  bring  ;  *  this  is  the  burden  of 
our  message,  and  the  object  of  our  embassy. 

It  is  on  this  foundation  of  free  love  that,  as  saints, 
we  stand,  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God. 
It  is  this  air  of  free-love  which  we  breathe,  and 
which  is  the  very  health  of  our  souls.  It  is  with 
this  light  of  free-love  that  we  are  compassed  about, 
and  so  made  partakers  of  the  heavenly  joy.  We 
entered  on  this  liberty,  when  we  received  Christ's 
testimony  to  the  acceptable  year ;  and  we  continue 
in  it,  by  continuing  to  believe  that  same  testimony 
to  the  end.  Embosomed  in  his  grace,  encircled 
with  his  free-love,  we  pass  onward  to  the  kingdom, 
in  the  expectation  of  receiving  yet  larger  measures 
of  love, — "  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  to  us 
at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ"  (1  Pet.  i.  13). 


SEEMON  IV. 

THE    MANIFESTED    LIFE. 
"  The  Life  was  manifested.'' — 1  John  i.  2. 

This  word  "  life"  was  one  which  the  Son  of  God  took 
up  when  here,  and  held  it  forth,  in  many  forms,  and 
under  many  figures.  He  speaks  of  himself  as  "the 
Life,"  as  the  bread  of  life,  as  the  water  of  life,  as 
the  light  of  life.  All  that  life  can  mean  or  embody 
is  deposited  in  him,  personified  in  him,  dispensed 
by  him.  All  that  God  calls  life  is  in  him.  The 
fulness  of  the  eternal  life  is  contained  in  this  divine 
vessel,  this  heavenly  well-spring  ;  for  in  him  we 
have  the  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlasting 
life.  He  is  the  eternal  Life .;  he  is  the  Prince  of 
life  ;  he  is  the  tree  of  life  ;  he  is  the  living  stone, 
and  the  living  way. 

Surely  there  is  no  lack  of  life  for  us.  But  what  if 
it  be  all  untasted  by  us  ?  What  if  it  be  rejected  and 
despised  ?  Here  is  life  for  you  ;  but  is  it  in  you  ? 
Here  is  life  come  down  to  earth  ;  but  has  it  quick- 
ened you  ?  Here  is  life  knocking  at  the  door  of 
death  ;  have  you  admitted  it,  or  has  it  knocked  in 
vain  ?  For,  as  it  was  with  the  world  at  large,  so  is 
it  with  individual  souls.     It  is  the  death  >that  is  in 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  21 

grace,  or  principle  on  which  God's  actings  of  free- 
love  proceed,  is  what  man  would  call  the  law  of 
unfitness,  and  unworthiness,  and  unlikeness. 

Well  for  us  that  it  is  so  !  What  would  have  been 
our  hope,  had  it  been  otherwise  ? 

In  God's  dealings  with  man,  it  is  the  unlike 
that  we  see  uniting.  What  more  unlike  than  God 
and  the  sinner  ?  yet  they  have  come  together  ! 
What  more  dissimilar  than  heaven  and  earth  ?  yet 
they  have  come  together!  The  mutual  attraction 
has  been  the  mutual  unlikeness.  Want  of  resem- 
blance has  been  the  knitting  bond.  The  evil  has 
drawn  out  the  good  ;  the  darkness  has  attracted 
the  light  ;  the  unrighteousness  has  awakened  the 
righteousness  :  the  death  has  brought  down  the 
life  ;  the  grave  has  called  up  resurrection.  Where 
sin  has  abounded,  grace  has  abounded  much  more. 

The  Life  has  been  manifested  !  This  is  our  gos- 
pel. It  is  not,  " the  Life  is"  but  " the  Life "  has 
come  forth  from  its  eternal  mystery  ;  "  the  Life " 
has  been  manifested  ;  so  as  to  be  seen,  and  heard, 
and  handled.  In  the  Word  was  life ;  nay,  the  Word 
was  the  Life.  u  In  Him  was  life,  and  the  life  was 
the  light  of  men"  (John  i.  4).  The  " light  of  the 
world"  is  the  Word  made  flesh,  the  manifested  life 
of  God.  The  Life  was  manifested,  and  we  beheld 
his  glory, — the  glory  as  of  the  only-begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.  In  the  light  we 
have  the  life,  and  in  the  life  we  have  the  light. 

The  Life  has  been  manifested  !  But  what  has 
drawn  it  out  ?     What  has  given  it  opportunity  to 


22  THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 

come  forth  ?  Death  !  It  is  not  life  that  has  at- 
tracted life  ;  nor  light  that  has  given  occasion  for 
the  outshining  of  light.  No ;  but  death  and  dark- 
ness ;  utter  death,  absolute  darkness. 

Thus  God,  the  God  of  all  grace,  has  spoken  out, 
and  revealed  to  us  the  breadth  and  length  of  his 
infinite  love.  Thus  we  learn  the  true  meaning, 
and  discover  the  essence  of  that  grace  which  has 
been  proclaimed  to  us  by  the  lips,  and  embodied 
in  the  person  of  the  incarnate  Son.  It  is  the  total 
unlikeness  between  the  lover  and  the  loved  one  that 
brings  out  the  real  nature  of  grace.  Love  to  the 
unloveable  and  unloving  is  its  very  essence.  Apart 
from  this  it  has  no  meaning,  no  reality,  no  suitable- 
ness. Introduce  one  element  of  resemblance,  one 
fragment  or  feature  of  loveableness,  and  grace  is  gone. 

It  was  the  manifestation  of  death  on  earth  that 
called  forth  this  manifestation  of  life  from  heaven. 
Man's  utter  death  has  drawn  out  the  fulness  of  the 
life  of  God.  The  entrance  of  death  was  the  signal 
for  the  entrance  of  life.  Life,  in  its  boundless  ful- 
ness, seemed  on  the  watch  to  enter  in  and  take 
possession  of  earth.  But  it  could  not  do  so  till 
death  had  come.  As  it  needs  darkness  to  bring 
out  the  glory  of  the  starry  heavens,  so  it  needed 
death  to  shew  forth  the  life, — life  such  as  had  not 
been  possessed  before,  nor  could  be,  by  man  unfallen, 
cr  upon  a  sinless  earth.  Hence  the  deep  signifi- 
cance of  the  Lord's  words,  "  I  am  come  that  they 
might  have  life,  and  that  they  might  have  it  more 
abundantly"  (John  x.  10). 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  23 

Thus  and  then  the  Life  entered  !  Not  like  a 
monarch,  to  take  possession  of  a  fitting  palace ;  but 
like  a  physician,  to  take  possession  of  an  hospital ; 
like  spring,  coming  to  take  possession  of  a  wintry 
earth  ;  like  day-spring,  coming  to  take  possession 
of  the  darkened  skies.  What  an  entrance  !  Not 
invited  by  kindred  life,  still  lingering  among  men  ; 
but  uninvited,  nay,  repelled.  It  is  the  absence  of 
life  here,  that  is  the  cause  of  its  manifestation  from 
on  high.  The  reign  of  death  is  the  herald  of  the 
reign  of  life,  as  midnight  is  the  herald  of  the  morn. 

A  manifestation  such  as  this,  in  heaven,  where 
all  is  life,  would  not  have  seemed  so  marvellous  ; 
for  man's  rule  is,  "  like  draws  to  like."  But  it 
is  passing  wonderful  that  it  should  have  been 
here,  in  the  land  of  death.  Yet  this  is  only  the 
more  like  that  God  from  whom  the  manifestation 
came.  For  his  thoughts  are  not  our  thoughts,  nor 
his  ways  ours.  His  love  is  not  our  love,  nor  his 
pity  ours.  As  he  sends  his  rain  and  his  sunshine, 
just  ivhere  they  are  needed,  and  when  they  are 
needed,  and  because  they  are  needed,  not  because 
they  are  there  already  ;  so  is  it  with  his  grace  and 
its  revelation  ;  with  life  and  its  manifestation. 
That  grace  and  life  came  to  us  simply  because 
we  needed  them,  and  because  God  needed  sin  and 
death  like  ours,  for  the  display  of  his  fulness.  He 
needs  midnight  that  he  may  say,  "  Let  there  be 
light;"  he  needs  the  storm  that  he  may  say,  "Peace, 
be  still  ;"  he  needs  the  creature's  emptiness  for  the 
display  of  the  Creator's  strength  ;  he  needs  the  sin- 


24  THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 

ner  s  evil  to  furnish  a  sphere  for  the  forthcoming  of 
the  good  in  himself,  which,  but  for  this,  had  been 
pent  up  and  hidden.  He  allows  man  to  fall  that 
he  may  shew  how  he  can  love  and  lift  up  the  fallen. 
He  lets  Eden  become  a  wilderness,  that  he  may 
shew  how  he  can  make  the  desert  rejoice  and  blos- 
som as  the  rose.  So  he  takes  the  dried- up  well, 
and  fills  it ;  he  takes  the  broken  harp,  and  draws 
out  from  it  the  full  compass  of  his  heavenly  music; 
he  takes  the  quenched  star,  and  lights  it  up  into 
a  more  resplendent  and  everlasting  sun. 

It  was  the  blind  man  that  was  the  object  of  at- 
traction to  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  Jesus  needed  him 
as  truly  as  he  needed  Jesus.  The  tomb  of  Lazarus 
was  to  Him  more  attractive  than  the  house  of  La- 
zarus ;  for  at  the  house  he  was  the  receiver,  at  the 
tomb  he  was  the  giver.  The  leper  drew  near  to 
him,  and  he  to  the  leper,  as  by  some  mutual  fitness, 
by  some  irresistible  necessity ;  he  needing  the  leper, 
and  the  leper  needing  him.  The  publican  and  he 
were  daily  meeting,  finding  each  other  out,  attracted 
by  their  mutual  need  ;  the  righteous  and  the  un- 
righteous recognising,  in  each  other,  an  object  ex- 
actly suited  to  that  which  they  severally  possessed. 
The  sick  one  and  the  healer  had  a  link  between  them 
which  no  other  knew,  and  with  which  a  stranger 
could  not  intermeddle.  It  was  the  lost  one  that 
attracted  the  seeker  ;  the  lost  sheep  that  made  the 
shepherd's  journey  a  necessity  ;  the  lost  piece  of 
silver  that  made  the  woman  light  her  candle  ;  and 
the  lost  son  that  brought  the  father  to  the  door, 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  25 

to  watch,  in  longing  love,  for  the  wanderer's  re- 
turn. 

The  Life  was  manifested !  And  we  have  seen  it ! 
Life  in  the  realms  of  the  dead  ;  light  in  the  land  of 
darkness  ;  God  manifest  in  flesh  ; — this  is  what  our 
eyes  have  seen.  Yes ;  and  these  things  are  written 
for  us,  that  our  joy  may  be  full ;  for  in  that  life  is  love. 

Go  to  Bethlehem  ;  look  into  yon  cradle  ; 
what  is  that  ?  It  is  the  manifested  Life.  Climb 
the  hills  of  Galilee,  and  enter  Nazareth ;  see  yon 
boy,  so  like,  yet  so  unlike  all  others  ;  he  is  the 
manifested  Life.  Pass  over  Olivet,  and  visit  Beth- 
any ;  stand  by  yon  tomb,  where  a  dead  man  has 
lain  four  days  ;  hear  the  voice  which  in  a  moment 
empties  the  grave,  and  recalls  the  dead  ;  what  is 
that  ?  It  is  the  manifested  Life.  Look  at  Gol- 
gotha ;  mark  yon  cross.  Is  it  death,  or  is  it  life  ? 
It  is  both.  It  is  death  conquering  life,  and  life 
overcoming  death.  The  manifested  Life  is  yonder  ; 
nay,  in  that  very  death  there  is  the  fullest  manifes- 
tation of  life.  Look  once  more  at  yon  empty  grave, 
from  which  the  stone  has  been  rolled  away.  Who 
is  it  that  early  in  the  morning,  while  it  is  yet 
dark,  comes  forth  from  its  rocky  gloom  ?  It  is 
the  manifested  Life  ;  the  risen  Son  of  God  ;  the 
Besurrection  and  the  Life  ;  he  who  says,  "  I  am  he 
who  liveth  and  was  dead."  Yes  ;  at  the  cradle,  and 
the  cross,  and  the  tomb,  the  Life  has  been  mani- 
fested !  Blessed  manifestation  for  us,  the  dead  in 
sin  !  The  Life  has  come ;  and  because  he  liveth,  we 
shall  live  also  ;  for  he  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life. 


SERMON  III. 

THE    MANIFESTED     LIFE. 
"  The  Life  was  manifested."— 1  John  i.  2. 

u  Like  draws  to  like,"  is  man's  maxim,  and  man's 
principle  of  action.  The  things  that  resemble, 
attract  each  other  ;  the  things  that  differ,  repel. 
Love  attracts  love  ;  the  loving  and  the  loveable 
knit  themselves  together.  Life  attracts  life  ;  and 
the  living  cleave  to  the  living.  Things  congenial 
discover  their  mutual  congenialities,  and  find  their 
way  to  each  other,  as  by  some  magnetic  virtue; 
things  uncongenial  keep  far  asunder.  Life  and 
death  have  no  brotherhood  ;  and  what  communion 
has  light  with  darkness  ? 

Such  is  the  law  of  earth  !  Such  is  the  action 
of  human  hearts  ;  such  the  extent  of  the  circle, 
within  which,  even  at  their  widest  stretch,  they 
revolve  ;  such  the  measure  of  the  depths  to  which 
their  loves  and  sympathies  can  descend.  Likeness, 
and  fitness,  and  worthiness,  are  necessary  elements 
in  all  earthly  affinities. 

But  such  is  not  the  heavenly  law.  The  principle 
of  divine  action,  the  regulating  power  of  the  infinite 
heart  above,  is  the  reverse  of  this.     The  law  of 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  27 

each  that  attracts  the  heavenly  life ;  not  some  lurk- 
ing remains  of  life,  nor  the  possession,  however 
slender,  of  some  goodness,  but  the  entire  absence 
of  both  life  and  goodness.  It  is  to  the  dead  that 
the  life  comes  ;  it  is  to  the  unloveable  that  the  love 
comes  ;  it  is  to  the  lost  that  the  salvation  comes. 
That  which  qualifies  us  for  life,  for  healing,  for 
riches,  for  deliverance,  is  our  death,  our  sickness, 
our  poverty,  and  our  bondage. 

The  Life  has  been  manifested  !  The  Christ  has 
come.  For  us  the  Word  took  flesh.  For  us  he 
fought  the  great  battle  with  death,  and  won  the 
eternal  victory  ;  passing  through  death  that  he 
might  destroy  death,  and  convey  to  us  the  ever- 
lasting life.  Never  before  was  life  so  fully  embodied, 
and  revealed,  and  made  accessible.  Never  before 
was  death  so  terribly  manifested.  The  two  ex- 
tremities of  being  were  exhibited  in  him  ;  all  that 
God  calls  life,  which  is  the  highest  and  fullest  form 
of  being,  and  all  that  God  calls  death,  which  is  its 
lowest  and  emptiest.  Never  had  life  seemed  so 
real,  and  so  glorious,  as  when  the  Life  was  mani- 
fested ;  never  had  death  seemed  so  real,  and  so 
awful,  as  when  the  Prince  of  Life  died.  Yet  this 
death  is  our  life,  for,  only  through  death,  could  life 
reach  us  and  fill  us.  Life  died,  that  death  might 
live.  Immortality  went  down  into  the  tomb,  to 
bring  up  thence  for  us  immortality  and  in  corrup- 
tion. Thus  death  became  the  destroyer  of  death, 
and  the  grave  the  spoiler  of  the  grave. 

Life  for  the  dead  !     This  is  our  message  to  the 


28  THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 

sons  of  men.  This  is  our  gospel  ;  a  gospel  for  the 
dead,  not  for  the  living.  It  is  the  gospel  of  the 
"manifested  life." 

You  say,  perhaps,  that  it  is  just  your  state  of 
death  that  makes  this  no  gospel  to  you.  Your 
consciousness  of  death  leads  to  despondency  ;  and 
you  say,  Were  I  not  so  dead,  I  should  not  despair. 
Ah  !  were  you  not  so  dead  ycu  would  not  need  the 
life,  and  would  present  fewer  attractions,  as  well  as 
fewer  necessities,  to  the  living  One  ;  there  would 
be  less  in  you  to  call  out  the  life.  You  seem  to  be 
searching  for  some  sparks  of  life  within  you,  to  at- 
tract the  life  from  above.  But  in  so  doing  you  are 
repelling  the  very  life  that  you  are  seeking.  You 
are  mistaking  the  real  attraction  to  the  life,  and 
substituting  one  of  your  own.  You  act  on  man's 
maxim,  "Like  draws  to  like,"  instead  of  upon  God's, 
"Where  sin  abounded,  grace  did  much  more  abound;" 
"  He  hath  concluded  all  in  unbelief,  that  he  might 
have  mercy  upon  all." 

The  truth  is,  you  did  not  know  how  complete 
was  the  death  in  which  you  lay.  You  thought 
there  was  a  little  life  remaining,  and  that  remnant 
was  your  hope  ;  but  now  that  you  have  become 
conscious  of  your  total  death,  that  hope  has  left 
you.  It  is  well ;  for  it  was  a  false  hope,  as  all  hope 
must  ever  be,  that  is  founded  upon  the  good, 
and  not  on  the  evil  that  is  in  you.  But  now  that 
this  vain  confidence  has  perished,  and  the  last 
prop  of  self-righteousness  been  struck  from  under 
you,  are  you  so  foolish  as  to  despair  ?     Despair, 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  29 

when  hope,  true  hope,  is  dawning  ?  Despair,  when 
the  only  thing  that  repelled  the  Life  has  been 
taken  from  you  ?  It  is  not  your  death  that  repels 
the  Life ;  it  is  your  fancying  that  you  are  not  dead ! 
Know  what  you  are  ;  truly  dead  ;  and  the  repul- 
sion ceases,  the  attraction  begins.  I  am  too  dead 
to  be  quickened,  you  say.  Nay,  you  are  not.  The 
Life  goes  down  to  the  lowest  depths  of  death,  and 
there  is  no  region  of  the  soul's  dark  tomb  to  which 
this  Life  cannot  reach,  or  into  which  it  has  not  al- 
ready entered.  The  danger  lies,  not  in  your  being 
too  dead,  but  in  your  not  knowing  how  thoroughly 
dead  you  are.  So  long  as  there  is  the  unconscious- 
ness of  death,  there  is  a  barrier,  a  non-conducting 
medium  between  you  and  the  Life.  The  Holy 
Spirit,  in  revealing  to  you  your  true  condition  of 
utter  death,  is  throwing  down  that  barrier,  and  sub- 
stituting a  conducting  for  a  non-conducting  medium, 
that  the  Life,  long  shut  out,  not  by  the  death,  but 
by  your  refusal  to  acknowledge  that  death,  may 
pour  in,  in  its  glad  fulness,  to  all  the  regions  of  your 
being  ;  transforming  corruption  into  incorruption, 
and  death  into  life. 

"  Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might  have  life," 
said  this  Life,  when  manifested  here.  And  what 
do  these  words  mean,  but  just  this,  "  Ye  will  not 
acknowledge  the  death  that  is  in  yourselves,  and 
the  life  that  is  in  me."  This  acknowledgment, 
this  two-fold  recognition  of  the  death  and  the  Life, 
would  at  once  bring  you  into  contact  with  the  liv- 
ing One. 


o 


0  THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 


u  I  am  the  Way,  and  the  Truth,  and  the  Life" 
Yes  ;  he  lives ;  he  gives  life ;  nay,  he  is  Life,  the 
Life,  the  Life  that  was  manifested.  All  this  fulness 
of  manifested  life  is  for  the  sinner, — for  you !  Recog- 
nise him  as  the  Life,  and  straightway  his  fulness 
passes  over  to  you  ;  and  because  he  lives  you  live 
also. 

"  This  is  the  record,  that  God  hath  given  to  us 
eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in  his  Son."  His  Son  is 
the  "  manifested  life"  the  "  resurrection  and  the 
life"  and  "he  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life."  What 
say  you  to  this  manifested  life  ?  Is  it  nothing  to 
you,  or  is  it  all  ?  What  have  you  found  in  it  ? 
What  have  you  extracted  from  it  ?  Have  you  read 
in  it  the  love  of  God  ?  Have  you  obtained  from 
it  the  life  of  your  soul ;  the  supply  of  your  eternal 
need  ?  Or  are  you  still  as  much  in  want  of  life 
as  if  the  Life  had  never  been  manifested,  as  if  the 
Word  had  never  been  made  flesh,  as  if  the  Son  of 
God  had  never  come  ? 

But  the  manifestation  of  this  Life  is  not  yet  over. 
The  Life  has,  as  it  were,  retired  for  a  season,  and 
gone  within  the  veil  ;  but  this  same  Jesus,  who 
came  the  first  time,  as  the  Life,  shall  come,  as  such, 
the  second  time  also  ;  and  that  day  of  his  mani- 
festation shall  be  the  day  of  ours  as  well.  "When 
Christ,  who  is  our  life,  shall  appear  (lit.,  'be  ma- 
nifested,7) then  shall  ye  also  appear  (be  manifested) 
with  him  in  glory  ;"  for  that  is  "the  day  of  the  ma- 
infestation  of  the  sons  of  God."  The  resurrection 
of  the  just  is  the  great  day  of  his  revelation,  and  of 


THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE.  31 

ours.  Then  shall  we  know  the  "  power  of  his  resur- 
rection/' the  resurrection  of  him  who  is  "  the  resur- 
rection and  the  life  ;"  for  all  the  fulness  of  "  the 
Life  "  shall  not  be  known,  till  he  comes  to  be  glori- 
fied in  his  saints,  and  to  be  admired  in  all  them 
that  believe.  The  "resurrection  unto  life"  shall  be 
the  completion  of  the  great  manifestation.  As  his 
first  coming  was  its  alpha,  or  beginning,  so  shall 
his  second  coming  be  its  omega,  or  end.  For  he 
comes  as  the  living  One,  to  die  no  more !  He  comes 
to  give  his  church  the  full  benefit  of  the  manifested 
life.  He  comes  to  avenge  us  of  death,  to  spoil  the 
grave,  and  to  bring  up  to  light  his  long-buried 
jewels. 

And  which  of  us  has  not  some  tie  to  the  tomb  ? 
something  which  makes  us  long  to  be  avenged  of 
death  ?  I  do  not  mean  merely  the  mortality  of 
these  vile  bodies,  in  which  death  and  life  are  at 
daily  warfare.  I  mean  the  dear  ones  that  death 
has  torn  from  us,  and  the  grave  devoured  ;  a  parent, 
a  child,  a  brother,  a  sister,  a  beloved  friend.  The 
last  enemy  came  to  them,  and  we  were  powerless. 
He  struck,  and  we  could  not  ward  off  the  blow.  We 
grudged  him  his  triumph,  yet  we  could  not  resist. 
He  carried  off  his  prize,  our  precious  ones,  in  spite 
of  us,  before  our  eyes.  But  ever  since,  oh  how  we 
have  longed  for  the  day  of  vengeance,  when  the 
spoiler  shall  be  spoiled,  the  grave  rifled,  and  death 
swallowed  up  of  life.  For  life,  not  death,  must 
triumph  in  the  end.  The  Life  is  hastening  back  to 
us  from  the  heaven  where  it  now  is,  at  the  Father's 


32  THE  MANIFESTED  LIFE. 

right  hand  ;  and  at  its  return  the  reign  of  death 
is  over.  Life  shall  be  manifested  in  a  way,  and  to 
an  extent,  unknown  before.  Expelling  death  alike 
from  soul  and  body  ;  emptying  the  grave  of  each 
fragment  of  mortality  ;  glorifying  the  church  with 
the  robe  of  incorruption  and  beauty  ;  overflowing 
creation  with  its  blessed  waters  ;  it  shall  bring  to 
pass  the  saying  that  is  written,  "  Death  is  swallowed 
up  in  victory  ;"  it  shall  realise  the  long-predicted 
triumph,  "  I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of 
the  grave  ;  I  will  redeem  them  from  death  ;  oh 
death,  I  will  be  thy  plagues  ;  oh  grave,  I  will  be 
thy  destruction  ;  repentance  shall  be  hid  from  mine 
eyes"  (Hos.  xiii.  14). 


SERMON  V. 

DIVINE    PHILOSOPHY. 

"  Christ  .  .  the  wisdom  of  God."— 1  Con.  i.  24. 

Our  age  is  eager  in  its  pursuit  of  knowledge.  It 
professes  to  be  a  truth-loving,  and  a  truth- seeking 
age.  It  is  quite  awake  to  science,  and  thoroughly 
in  love  with  its  marvels  and  mysteries.  It  has  ob- 
tained a  far  insight  into  the  dark  processes  of  that 
which  is  called  "  nature."  It  has  witnessed  one 
substance,  and  another,  and  another,  yielding  up 
their  hidden  wonders  ;  it  has  seen  earth,  and  sea, 
and  air  giving  out  their  treasures  ;  and,  by  patient 
inquiry,  it  has  wrung  the  deepest  secrets  from  every 
region  of  being.  It  has  taken  possession  of  unre- 
claimed territory  all  over  space,  and  covered  the 
waste  places  of  former  days  with  verdure,  and  fra- 
grance, and  beauty. 

Its  fields  of  discovery  lie  all  around  us,  near  and 
far.  Wherever  it  has  turned  its  steps,  it  has  found 
stores  of  truth.  What  a  profundity  of  miracle  there 
is  contained  in  every  ray  of  light,  every  drop  of 
dew,  every  pebble  of  the  brook,  every  fragment  of 
rock,  every  blade  of  grass  ;  what  an  exemplifica- 
tion of  order  and  law  there  is  revealed  in  every 

natural  process, — the  motion  of  earth,   and    sun, 
33  c 


34  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

and  stars,  the  shock  of  earthquakes,  the  flow  of 
tides,  the  rush  of  the  breeze,  the  braiding  of  the 
rainbow  on  the  cloud,  the  change  of  seasons,  the 
springing,  growth,  blossoming,  and  fruit-bearing  of 
flower,  and  shrub,  and  tree  ! 

These  are  the  works  of  God,  the  laws  of  God, 
the  daily  miracles  of  God.  In  all  of  them  ivisdom 
is  seen  ;  divine  wisdom  ;  wisdom  as  profound  as  it 
is  perfect,  as  incomprehensible  as  it  is  glorious,  as 
magnificent  in  its  minuteness  as  in  its  vastness,  in 
the  grain  of  sand  as  in  the  mighty  mountain,  in  the 
blush  of  the  unnoticed  desert-flower  as  in  the  splen- 
dour of  a  new-lighted  star. 

In  all  this  there  is  wisdom  ;  wisdom  which  we 
do  well  to  study.  Yet  all  these  are  but  parts, — 
mere  fragments ;  and,  even  when  gathered  together, 
they  still  form  but  the  minutest  portion  of  a  whole, 
whose  dimensions  are  vaster  than  the  created  uni- 
verse,— a  whole,  of  which  nothing  less  than  the  in- 
finity of  Godhead  is  the  measure.  There  is  some 
proportion  between  the  fragments  of  the  split  planet, 
that  astronomy  has  detected  in  their  wanderings, 
and  the  planet  itself,  of  which  they  are  the  broken 
parts ;  there  is  some  proportion  between  a  drop  and 
the  ocean,  between  the  stream  and  the  fountain, 
between  a  beam  and  the  sun,  between  a  moment 
and  a  million  of  ages  ;  but  there  is  no  proportion 
between  the  fragments  of  wisdom  that  lie  scattered 
over  creation  and  the  great  whole,  which  can  be 
contained  in  no  treasure-house  save  that  which  is 
infinite  and  divine. 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  35 

Hence  it  is  that,  while,  in  all  the  regions  and  de- 
partments of  creation,  may  be  seen  portions  of  this 
wisdom,  only  in  the  Son  of  God, — in  Christ  Jesus, 
the  incarnate  Word. — is  the  mighty  whole  con- 
tained.   He,  and  he  only,  is  (i  the  Wisdom  of  God." 

By  the  expression,  "the  Wisdom  of  God,"  thus 
applied  to  Christ,  is  not  merely  meant  that  he  is 
wue,  infinitely  wise,  but  something  much  more  com- 
prehensive. To  say  that  he  is  infinitely  wise  is 
one  thing,  but  to  say  that  he  is  the  wisdom  of  God 
is  another.  We  say  of  the  Father,  he  is  infinitely 
wise  ;  but  we  cannot  say  of  him,  he  is  the  wisdom 
of  God.  Of  the  Son  alone,  the  Christ  of  God,  can 
this  be  said.  Both  things  are  true  of  him.  He  is 
infinitely  wise,  and  he  is  the  wisdom  of  God.  Only 
of  him  can  we  affirm  that  he  has,  and  he  is,  "  the 
wisdom  of  God."  Suppose  we  have  an  able  architect, 
and  a  goodly  palace  planned  and  built  by  him,  into 
which  he  has  thrown  his  whole  mind,  and  skill,  and 
genius ;  we  say  of  himself,  he  is  skilful,  but  we  say  of 
his  work,  there  is  his  skill,  there  is  the  outward  per- 
sonification of  all  that  is  in  him,  and  without  which 
you  could  not  have  known  what  is  in  him.  Of 
other  buildings  erected  by  him,  we  may  say  there 
is  some  skill ;  but  only  of  his  chief  work,  his  mas- 
terpiece, should  we  say  that  it  is  the  skill  or  the  wis- 
dom of  the  man.  Suppose  we  have  the  poet,  and 
the  poem  into  which  he  has  poured  his  whole  soul ; 
we  say  of  him,  he  is  the  poet,  of  his  work,  this  is 
the  poetry  ;  of  him  we  say  he  has  genius,  of  his 
poem,  it  is  genius ;  it  is  the  full  embodiment,  in  the 


3G  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

most  perfect  form  of  speech,  of  all  the  soul,  the 
mind,  the  thought,  the  fancy,  the  fire,  the  love,  the 
power,  that  were  wrapt  up  in  him. 

Thus  is  it  with  regard  to  Christ.  He  is  the 
wisdom  of  God.  All  that  is  in  God,  all  that  can 
come  forth  out  of  God,  is  contained  in  him.  He 
is  the  full  representative  of  the  invisible  and  in- 
comprehensible Jehovah.  He  is  the  brightness  of 
Jehovah's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his 
person.  In  the  works  of  creation  God  has  dis- 
played fragments  or  portions  of  his  wTisdom :  but 
in  Christ  he  has  summed  up  and  put  forth  the 
whole  of  it ;  so  that  it  can  be  said  of  this  Christ, 
he  is  the  wisdom  of  God.  Hence  it  is  that  the 
knowledge  of  Christ  not  only  transcends  all  other 
knowledge,  but  includes  them  all ;  the  study  of  this 
wondrous  embodiment  of  all  that  is  in  God  is  not 
only  superior  to,  but  actually  embraces,  all  other 
studies.  Here  we  cannot  fathom  this;  hereafter 
we  may.  Here  we  cannot  see  how  a  discovered 
Christ  should  be  the  discovery  of  all  other  things, 
all  science,  all  nature,  all  things  in  heaven  and 
earth ;  hereafter  we  shall  find  it  so. 

Wisdom  is  one  of  the  last  things  which  we  are 
in  the  habit  of  connecting  with  the  name  of  Christ. 
We  connect  with  it  salvation,  pardon,  life,  right- 
eousness, love,  but  not  wisdom.  Yet  it  is  wisdom 
that  God  so  especially  associates  with  Christ.  "He, 
of  God,  is  made  unto  us  wisdom."  "  In  him  are  hid 
all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge."  When 
God  looks  at  him,  that  whiah  he  especially  sees  in 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  37 

him  is  wisdom.  When  he  bids  us  look  at  Him  and 
admire  him,  it  is  because  he  is  the  Wisdom.  He 
is  the  perfection  of  all  perfection ;  but  specially  the 
perfection  of  wisdom ;  so  that,  while  each  perfection 
is  in  him,  it  is  in  him  in  such  a  way  as  to  mani- 
fest the  wisdom  of  God.  Holiness  is  in  him;  but 
then,  it  is  in  him  in  such  a  way,  and  manifests 
itself  in  such  a  way,  as  to  shew  forth  not  only  itself, 
but  wisdom  as  well.  Each  perfection  becomes  thus 
not  merely  a  display  of  itself,  but  an  illustration,  or 
embodiment,  of  wisdom. 

It  is  of  this  Wisdom  that  the  "  wise  man"  speaks  in 
the  Proverbs  so  frequently.  It  is  this  Wisdom  which 
utters  its  voice,  and  says,  "The  Lord  possessed 
me  in  the  beginning  of  his  way,  before  his  works 
of  old.  I  was  set  up  from  everlasting,  from  the 
beginning,  or  ever  the  earth  was."  Sometimes  the 
name  given  is  the  "Wisdom  of  God;"  sometimes 
it  is  the  "  Word  of  God." 

The  subject  is  a  very  wide  one ;  we  take  up  here 
only  that  section  of  it  which  relates  to  the  Person 
of  the  Christ. 

In  this  there  are  two  parts,  the  divine  and  the 
human,  the  heavenly  and  the  earthly,  the  invisible 
and  the  visible,  the  infinite  and  the  finite,  the  un- 
created and  the  created;  and  these.,  both  in  them- 
selves and  in  their  union,  distinction,  adjustment, 
co-operation,  harmony,  make  up  that  glorious  Per- 
son, Son  of  God  and  Son  of  Man,  of  whom  it  is 
affirmed  that  he  is  the  "Wisdom  of  God."  The 
whole  Creator  is  in  him,  and  the  whole  creature  is 


38  DIYIXE  PHILOSOPHY. 

in  him ;  yet  both  retaining  their  properties  distinct 
and  unchanged  by  the  union. 

On  the  subject  of  the  divine  and  the  human, 
philosophy,  and  Mysticism,  and  metaphysics,  and 
theology,  have  speculated.  Various  and  strange 
have  been  the  ideas  which  man  has  held  regarding 
himself  and  God.  Sometimes  he  would  spiritualize 
all  matter,  as  if  the  created  and  the  human  were 
mere  ideas,  or  shadows  projected  from  the  God- 
head; sometimes  he  would  materialize  all  spirit, 
not  only  making  the  soul  of  man  a  mere  part  of  his 
body,  but  bringing  down  the  Godhead  to  the  level 
and  form  of  creaturehood,  as  if  the  Creator  and  the 
creation  were  one  ;  every  part  of  nature,  animate 
and  inanimate,  being  fragments  of  Godhead.  Such 
is  human  wisdom.  It  cannot  comprehend  either 
the  earthly  or  the  heavenly,  either  the  nature  of 
man  or  God,  nor  adjust  the  connection  between 
them,  without  destroying  and  confounding  both. 

God  takes  another  way ;  a  way  which  not  merely 
preserves,  unchanged  and  distinct,  both  natures, 
while  uniting  them  in  one,  but  which  brings  forth 
to  view,  in  glorious  fulness,  the  true  properties  of 
each.  In  man  is  seen  God,  very  God;  in  God  is 
seen  man,  very  man.  All  that  is  glorious  in  the 
Godhead,  and  ail  that  is  excellent  in  manhood,  is 
gathered  into  one  person,  and  fully  exhibited  in 
him.  The  Word  is  made  flesh  ;  yet  the  Word  is 
still  the  Word,  and  flesh  is  still  flesh.  The  heavenlv 
becomes  earthly  ;  yet  both  are  preserved  ;  nor  is 
the  one  lost  in  the  other.     The  Creator  becomes  the 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  £9 

creature;  yet  Creator  and  creature,  though  con- 
joined in  one  person,  remain  still  distinct.  The 
Eternal  becomes  a  Being  of  time,  yet  continuing 
Eternal.  The  Infinite  becomes  finite,  yet  abiding 
Infinite.  The  Immortal  becomes  mortal,  yet  con- 
tinuing Immortal.  The  Omnipotent  becomes  the 
helpless  child  of  clay,  yet  remaining  Omnipotent 
still.  The  Prince  of  Life  becomes  the  heir  of  death, 
yet  abides  still,  the  Prince  of  Life,  the  Living  One, 
the  life  of  the  boundless  universe  ! 

Thus  the  two  parts  of  the  great  universe  are 
brought  together,  yet  kept  distinct.  Thus  they 
are  linked  to  each  other  by  a  new  tie,  closer  than 
that  of  creation  ;  for  the  union  which  creation 
produces  is  not  half  so  close  or  dear  as  that  which 
is  brought  about  by  incarnation  and  redemption. 
By  this  union  these  two  parts  are  revealed  to  each 
other;  heaven  is  revealed  to  earth,  and  earth  is 
revealed  to  heaven.  Earth  now  knows  what  God- 
head is,  by  its  coming  down  and  dwelling  here; 
heaven  knows  what  manhood  is,  by  the  human 
nature  being  taken  up  to  sit  at  God's  right  hand, 
in  the  person  of  the  Christ. 

It  seems  to  be  union  only  at  a  single  point ;  for 
it  is  with  one  body  and  one  soul  that  the  God- 
head is  united.  But  that  single  point  is  enough ; 
that  one  link  unites  the  nature.  In  order  to  moor 
a  ship  we  do  not  require  a  thousand  cables,  each 
fastened  to  a  separate  plank  or  spar  ;  one  strong 
cable,  fixed  at  one  point,  makes  fast  the  whole,  and 
connects  the  entire  vessel  with  its  anchor.     So  the 


40  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

incarnation  of  Christ,  whereby  Godhead  took  into 
union  with  itself  a  human  soul  and  body,  is  the 
fastening  or  mooring  of  the  whole  nature  to  the 
throne  of  the  universe, — to  the  great  fountain-head 
of  life  and  being. 

Nor  was  it  with  one  particular  stage  of  our  being 
that  this  union  was  formed  ;  but  with  all ;  from 
the  first  moment  of  conception  in  the  womb  to 
death  and  the  grave.  Had  the  Son  of  God  united 
himself  with  manhood  in  its  maturity,  there  would 
have  been  no  union  and  no  sympathy  with  the 
different  stages  of  human  life  and  growth.  But  he 
enters  the  Virgin's  womb  and  begins  life  just  where 
we  begin  it,  thus  joining  himself  to  us  at  the  very 
commencement  of  human  existence  ;  taking  the 
first  small  invisible  thread  of  mortal  life  and  weav- 
ing it  into  his  own  Godhead.  He  is  made  of  a 
woman ;  and  that  links  him  to  woman,  and  woman 
to  him,  in  everlasting  bonds.  He  is  a  man  ;  and 
that  links  him  to  man,  and  man  to  him,  in  eternal 
union.  He  was  an  infant;  and  that  links  infancy 
to  him,  and  him  to  infancy.  He  was  a  child,  a 
boy,  a  youth  ;  and  that  links  childhood,  boyhood, 
youth  to  him,  and  him  to  them.  He  passed 
through  all  the  stages  of  humanity,  uniting  himself 
to  us  at  these  different  points,  and  consecrating 
these  steps  of  human  development. 

What  a  marvel  of  wisdom  is  here  !  What 
treasures  of  knowledge  are  thus  spread  out  before 
heaven  and  earth!  Trulv  he  is  "the  wisdom  of 
God  ! " 


SEEMON  VI. 

DIVINE     PHILOSOPHY. 

"  Christ  .  .  the  wisdom  of  God/' — 1  Cor.  i.  24. 

But  why  did  He  not  become  man  till  after  man  had 

sinned,  and  human  nature  had  become  vile  and 

mortal  ?    Why  did  He  not  unite  himself  with  the 

unfallen   Adam,    and   with    an  unfallen  creation, 

thereby  upholding  our  nature,  and  preventing  that 

fall  which  has  been  so  terrible,  so  disastrous  ?     For 

many  reasons  ;  too  many  to  be  here  enumerated. 

But  this  at  least  we  may  say,  that  it  was  needful 

that  the  creature  should  be  abased,  emptied,  laid 

prostrate,  ere  it  could  be  lifted  up  to  a  height  so 

glorious  as  that  of  union  with  Godhead.     It  must 

be  shewn  that  this  was  no  natural  process,  no  law 

of  the  creature's  own  being,  whereby,  after  a  certain 

time,  it  could  rise  from  the  human  to  the  divine. 

It  must  be  shewn  that  it  was  from  no  desert  of  the 

creature,  no  necessity  of  being  or  of  righteousness, 

no  claim  which  the  finite  can  have  on  the  infinite. 

Every  possibility  of  boasting  or  pride  must  be  cut 

off ;  hence  sin,  death,  corruption,  must  be  allowed 

to  enter  it  ere  it  can  be  safe  for  itself,  or  honourable 

for  God  so  to  uplift  and  glorify  it.    Till  it  has 

been  brought  to  its  lowest  depths  ;  till  it  is  seen 
4.1 


42  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

to  be  the  most  abject,  degraded,  undeserving  of 
beings  ;  till  the  curse  of  God,  pronounced  over  it, 
has  declared  it  totally  unworthy  of  anything  but 
consuming  wrath  ;  till  this  has  been  accomplished, 
it  could  not  be  trusted  with  such  an  elevation,  such 
a  glory.  Till  it  had  sunk  down  to  the  lowest,  it 
was  not  fit  to  be  raised  to  the  highest ;  till  it  had 
reduced  itself  to  a  condition  rendering  it  only  fit  to 
be  swept  out  of  God's  presence  for  ever,  it  was  not 
in  a  condition  to  receive  the  destined  honour  ;  till 
it  hung  over  hell,  ready  to  drop  into  the  devouring 
fire,  it  could  not  be  trusted  with  personal  affinity  to 
Godhead,  with  the  crown  of  heaven,  or  with  the 
throne  of  the  universe. 

Nay,  it  was  not  in  a  condition  fully  to  set  forth 
the  wisdom  of  God,  till  it  had  become  sinful.  As 
man's  wisdom  is  not  fully  seen  in  prosperous, 
peaceful  days,  nor  has  opportunity  to  develop  itself 
till  evervthino;  is  disordered,  complicated,  broken, 

*j  ~  /  i  7  7 

and  its  resources  are  taxed  to  the  verv  uttermost, 

%J  7 

so  was  it  respecting  the  wisdom  of  God.  There 
was  needed  a  condition  of  creaturehood  disturbed, 
accursed,  ruined  ;  a  condition  which,  by  its  en- 
tanglements, its  conflicting  demands,  its  desperate 
wreck  of  law,  and  righteousness,  and  goodness, 
should  tax  wisdom's  resources  to  their  utmost. 
Till  such  had  become  the  condition  of  the  creature, 
there  was  comparatively  little  scope  for  the  de- 
velopment of  wisdom.  Just  as  the  fall  was  needed 
to  let  loose  the  boundless  fountains  of  hidden  love 
in  God,  so  was  it  needed  to  disclose  the  treasures 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  43 

of  his  infinite  wisdom.  Just  as  this  free-love  of 
God  could  not  rightly  sing  its  song,  in  all  the  rich 
breadth  of  its  harmony,  over  unfallen  man,  but 
needed  that  fall  in  order  to  get  down  to  the  lowest 
notes  of  the  wondrous  music,  which  are  the  deepest, 
the  fullest,  and  the  sweetest  ;  so  the  wisdom  of  God 
could  not  half  unfold  itself,  nor  shew  its  breadth 
and  length,  its  height  and  depth,  over  an  unfallen 
race. 

Thus,  then,  we  see  in  Christ  the  God-man,  the 
Wisdom  of  God.  In  the  constitution  of  his  person ; 
in  the  incarnation  itself ;  in  the  time  and  circum- 
stances of  the  incarnation  ;  in  the  purposes  for 
which  that  incarnation  was  devised  ;  in  the  way 
in  which  it  has  carried  out  these  purposes; — in  all 
these  we  see  "  Christ,  the  Wisdom  of  God;"  Christ 
the  great  embodiment  of  divine  wisdom;  Christ  not 
only  the  possessor  of  this  wisdom,  but  the  revealer, 
the  exhibitor,  the  teacher  of  its  mysteries. 

What,  then,  must  be  the  guilt  of  undervaluing 
this  incarnation  of  wisdom  !  What  the  evil  of  errors 
as  to  the  person  of  the  Christ  !  This  is  the  object 
which  God  so  specially  holds  up  to  view,  claiming 
for  it  our  admiration,  our  reverence,  our  love. 
Above  all  objects  of  nature  upon  earth,  in  which 
science  has  discovered  such  wonders  of  wisdom, 
God  has  set  his  Son  as  the  centre  and  summation 
of  all  wisdom.  Woe  be  to  the  man  who  slights 
this,  who  prefers  other  objects  to  this,  who  finds 
other  centres  than  this. 

Here  lies  one  of  the  crown  in  2;  sins  of  Rome.  She 


44  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

has  degraded  the  Son  of  God,  and  has  done  what 
she  could  to  nullify  the  great  objects  of  incarnation, 
as  well  as  the  great  end  of  blood-shedding,  She 
has  exalted  the  human  above  the  divine  ;  she  has 
seated  a  woman  upon  the  throne  of  God  ;  she  has 
made  the  glory  of  the  incarnation  to  centre  in  Mary, 
not  in  Mary's  son ;  she  has  made,  not  Christ,  but 
Mary,  the  wisdom  of  God  ;  not  Christ,  but  Mary, 
the  power  of  God  ;  not  Christ,  but  Mary,  the  link 
between  the  earthly  and  the  heavenly;  not  Christ, 
but  Mary,  the  point  of  union  between  the  human 
and  the  divine  ! 

But  the  question  which,  from  all  this,  is  most 
closely  brought  home  to  us  is,  "  What  think  ye  of 
Christ  ?"  Is  he  to  you  wisdom  ?  Is  he  to  you  the 
wisdom  of  God?  In  him  centres  all  that  God  counts 
excellent,  and  true,  and  perfect,  and  glorious,  and 
wise.  Does  all  that  you  esteem  excellent,  and  true, 
and  perfect,  and  glorious,  and  wise,  centre  also  in 
him  ?  He  is  the  object  of  divine  admiration  ;  is 
he  also  the  object  of  yours  ?  He  is  the  beloved  of 
the  Father,  in  whom  He  is  well  pleased  ;  is  he  also 
your  beloved,  in  whom  you  are  well  pleased  ?  Do 
you  see  in  him  wisdom  ?  Not  merely  salvation,  for- 
giveness, life,  but  wisdom, — wisdom  the  highest, 
truest,  noblest,  ever  tasted  by  man  ? 

Or  have  you  some  other  Christ,  some  object 
whom  you  admire  more  than  him,  in  which  you 
see  more  truth,  more  wisdom,  more  beauty,  more 
attractiveness,  than  in  him  ?  Is  pleasure  your 
Christ  ?     But  will  pleasure  make  you  wise  unto 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  45 

salvation  ?  Will  pleasure  bring  you  into  the  ever- 
lasting kingdom  ?  Is  gold  your  Christ  ?  But  will 
gold  make  you  wise,  or  be  an  introduction  into  the 
presence  of  God  ?  Is  the  world  your  Christ  ?  But 
will  the  world  make  you  wise,  or  deliver  you  from 
the  eternal  darkness  ?  Is  sin  your  Christ  ?  But 
will  sin  make  you  wise  ?  Will  sin  save  and  bless 
you  ?  Is  literature  your  Christ  ?  But  will  all 
earth's  widest  range  of  literature  make  you  truly 
wise,  or  fill  the  void  of  your  heart,  or  gladden  you 
with  abiding  joy  ?  Is  science  your  Christ?  But 
will  science  make  you  wise, — wise  for  eternity  ? 
Are  poetry  and  romance  your  Christ  ?  Will  they 
heal  your  spirit's  wounds  ?  Will  they  minister  to  a 
mind  diseased  ?  Will  they  pluck  from  your  memory 
the  rooted  sorrow  ?  Will  they  raze  out  the  written 
troubles  of  the  brain  ?  Will  they  fill  you  with  the 
"  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory  ?" 

Christ  is  the  wisdom  of  God  ;  and  in  the  know- 
ledge of  this  Christ  there  is  wisdom  for  you  ;  nor 
wisdom  only,  but  life,  forgiveness,  peace,  glory, 
and  an  endless  kingdom  !  Study  him  !  Acquaint 
thyself  with  him  !  Whatever  you  are  ignorant  of, 
be  not  ignorant  of  him  :  whatever  you  overlook, 
overlook  not  him  :  whatever  3^011  lose,  lose  not 
him.  To  gain  him  is  to  gain  eternal  life,  to  gain 
a  kingdom,  to  gain  everlasting  blessedness.  To  lose 
him  is  to  lose  your  soul,  to  lose  God,  to  lose  God's 
favour,  to  lose  God's  heaven,  to  lose  the  eternal 
crown  !  0  my  friend  and  fellow- man,  I  charge 
thee,  and  again   I   charge  thee,  whatsoever  thou 


46  DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY. 

losest,  lose  not  him.  Thou  canst  not  afford  such  a 
loss ;  such  an  infinite,  eternal  loss ;  a  loss  for  which 
there  can  be  no  compensation,  here  or  hereafter. 
Other  losses  may  be  heavy,  but  they  are  light  com- 
pared with  this  ;  only  the  loss  of  a  grain  of  sand 
when  compared  with  a  mine  of  gold.  Other  losses 
may  be  protracted  for  years,  but  this  is  for  ever. 
Other  losses  may  make  thee  poor  for  this  life,  but 
this  impoverishes  thee  to  all  eternity.  And  it  is 
the  loss,  too,  of  that  very  thing  which  thousands 
in  our  day  are  seeking,  each  in  his  own  way, — the 
loss  of  wisdom  !  It  is  not  merely  the  loss  of  right- 
eousness, the  loss  of  pardon,  the  loss  of  gladness, 
the  loss  of  heaven  ;  but  it  is  the  loss  of  wisdom  ; 
that  which  God  calls  wisdom  ;  that  which  would 
make  thy  soul  wise  for  ever  and  for  ever !  Kemember 
that  "the  wise  shall  inherit  glory ;"  that  "they  that 
be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firma- 
ment." 

Young  man,  wouldst  thou  not  be  wise?  Even 
though  thou  couldst  save  thy  soul  and  gain  heaven 
without  it,  would  it  not  be  better  to  have  this  wis- 
dom, than  to  live  and  die  without  it?  That  cannot 
be  of  mean  importance  respecting  which  God  has 
uttered  this  longing,  this  compassionate  yearning, 
"  0  that  they  were  wise  !  " 

And  where  shall  wisdom  be  found,  and  where  is 
the  place  of  understanding?  The  depth  saith,  It 
is  not  in  me  ;  and  the  sea  saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ; 
and  the  river  saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ;  and  the  cloud 
saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ;  and  the  flower  saith,  It  is 


DIVINE  PHILOSOPHY.  47 

not  in  me  ;  and  the  star  saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ;  and 
the  light  saith,  It  is  not  in  me  ;  and  the  darkness 
saith,  It  is  not  in  me.  It  is  only  in  Him  in  whom 
are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge. 
He  is  the  Wisdom  of  God. 

And  what  price  shall  we  pay  for  it?  "  It  cannot 
be  gotten  for  gold,  neither  shall  silver  be  weighed 
for  the  price  thereof.  It  cannot  be  valued  with  the 
gold  of  Ophir,  with  the  precious  onyx  or  the 
sapphire  ;  the  gold  and  the  crystal  cannot  equal  it, 
and  the  exchange  of  it  shall  not  be  for  jewels  of 
fine  gold."  But,  just  because  it  is  beyond  price, 
it  is  without  price  ;  and  that  which  is  most  precious 
is  to  be  gotten  at  least  cost  ;  nay,  it  is  altogether 
free  ! 

And  how  shall  it  be  had  ?  "  If  any  man  lack 
wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  who  giveth  to  all  men 
liberally,  and  upbraideth  not,  and  it  shall  be  given 
him."  Take  him  who  is  wisdom,  and  thou  hast  it 
all.  "  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life  ;"  so  he  that 
hath  the  Son  hath  wisdom.  The  good  tidings  con- 
cerning this  wisdom  are  the  same  good  tidings  that 
are  made  known  respecting  the  Son  of  God.  The 
Father's  testimony  to  his  Christ  is  his  testimony 
to  the  wisdom.  He  who  receives  that  testimony 
receives  the  Christ ;  and  he  who  receives  the  Christ, 
receives  the  wisdom  ;  and,  in  that  wisdom,  ever- 
lasting life  and  an  inheritance  of  glory. 


SERMON  VII. 

THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT. 

f 

"  Jesns  walked  in  the  temple,  in  Solomon's  porch." — John  x.  23. 

The  places  which.  Jesus  chiefly  resorted  to,  during 
his  life  on  earth,  are  unknown  in  Old  Testament 
history.  Bethany,  and  Nazareth,  and  Capernaum, 
and  Nain,  and  Emmaus,  are  not  mentioned  in  the 
lives  of  the  saints  before  his  coming.  Their  names 
rise  up  newly  to  the  reader,  and  they  have  no 
sacred  memories  of  any  kind  attached  to  them. 
They  were  not  consecrated  spots  in  any  sense.  Yet 
to  these  the  Lord  betook  himself. 

The  chief  places  known,  in  the  story  of  Israel's 
ancient  saints,  are  passed  by,  in  New  Testament 
history.  Hebron,  the  city  of  Abraham  ;  Beersheba, 
the  dwelling  of  Isaac  ;  Bethel,  the  sanctuary  of 
Jacob  ;  Gilgal  and  Shiloh,  old  seats  of  worship,  seem 
as  if  avoided  ;  and  even  Bethlehem  itself  appears 
not  to  have  been  visited  by  the  Lord  during  his 
ministry.  The  places  that  Israel  counted  holy  he 
turned  aside  from  ;  and  even  Jerusalem  he  only 
visited  during  the  day,  retiring  from  it  at  night  to 
Bethany,  like  one  cast  out,  and  not  allowed  the 
shelter  of  its  roofs. 

For  this  there  misrht  be  many  reasons.     It  was 


THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.     49 

the  Father's  will.  He  chose,  in  his  sovereign  wis- 
dom, the  places  for  his  Son  to  visit  and  to  dwell 
in.  And  it  was  according  to  this  will  that  the  Son. 
of  God  ever  acted.  "  Not  my  will,  but  thine  be 
done."  In  choosing  these  unknown  places  for  his 
Son,  He  shewed  that  it  was  not  former  privileges,  r\c: 
ancient  sanctitv,  nor  a  venerable  name,  that  could 
avail  anything  with  him,  or  attract  his  favour. 
Christ  was  not  born  in  Jerusalem  ;  he  was  not  sent 
to  Bethel,  because  there  Jacob  had  been,  and  there 
the  heavens  had  been  opened  above  him  ;  nor  to 
Shiloh,  because  for  ages  God  himself  had  dwelt 
there.  But  he  was  sent  to  new  places,  where,  so  far 
as  we  know,  the  foot  of  patriarch,  judge,  prophet, 
king,  had  never  been  ;  shewing  that  no  city  was  to 
be  so  favoured  as  to  exclude  others,  and  that  all 
cities,  as  well  as  all  souls,  had  a  share  in  his  divine 
regards.  Nor  were  they  the  better  and  more 
reputable  cities  that  were  chosen  for  his  abode  ; 
for  Nazareth  was  one  of  the  worst.  Thus  was  it 
seen  that  he  came  not  to  call  the  righteous,  but 
sinners,  to  repentance. 

But  specially  do  we  see  in  this  avoidance  of  what 
might  be  called  the  "holy  cities,"  the  actings  of  One 
who  was  "despised  and  rejected  of  men,"  treated  by 
man  as  an  outcast,  and  by  God  as  one  who  was 
bearing  our  sin,  and  therefore,  like  the  leper,  kept 
apart  from  what  was  either  ritually  or  traditionally 
holy.  Our  reproach  was  on  Him,  in  life  as  well  as 
in  death.  He  was  not  to  be  allowed  to  die  within 
Jerusalem,  but  must  suffer  without  the  gate  ;  so  He 

D 


50  THE  BANISHED  ONE 

was  kept  apart  from  all  these  places  which  had 
special  sanctity  connected  with  their  names. 

He  visited  Jerusalem  indeed,  but  he  did  not 
dwell  there.  He  frequented  the  temple  ;  but  never 
entered  either  the  holy  place  or  the  most  holy.  It 
is  only  in  the  outer  court,  or  in  some  of  the  great 
porches  connected  with  it,  that  we  find  him. 
Beyond  these  he  went  not  at  any  time.  In  the 
verse  before  us,  we  find  him  in  Solomon's  porch. 
This  porch  was  at  the  eastern  side  of  the  temple, 
erected  by  Solomon,  and  fortunate  in  escaping  the 
ruin  which  had  once  and  again  overtaken  the  other 
parts  of  the  building.  It  was  "  winter"  at  this  time. 
It  was  just  the  very  middle  of  December  ;  for  the 
feast  of  the  Dedication  was  celebrated  on  the  loth 
of  that  month.  The  inclemency  of  mid-winter, — 
its  rains,  and  perhaps  its  snows, — had  led  the  Lord 
to  seek  the  shelter  of  this  porch  ;  for,  as  a  true  man, 
he  felt  earth's  heat  and  cold,  needing  a  shadow 
from  the  former  and  a  covering  from  the  latter,  just 
as  we  do.  Under  this  spacious  porch  he  was  walk- 
ing to  and  fro, — perhaps  to  increase  the  vital  heat, 
— when  the  Jews  gathered  round  him,  and  began 
the  conversation  which  our  passage  records. 

That  part  of  the  scene  which  alone  I  ask  you  to 
notice,  is  his  keeping  outside  the  holy  place  and 
the  most  holy,  as  though  he  might  not  enter  there, 
but  remain,  like  one  of  the  multitude,  in  the  outer 
court,  which  even  "  publicans  and  sinners"  might 
enter.     For  this  there  were  several  reasons. 

1.  Personal. — He  belonged  to  the  tribe  of  Judah, 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  51 

not  to  that  of  Levi.  It  could  not  be  personal 
uncleanness  that  kept  him  without  the  veil  ;  but 
only  Levi's  family  had  access  to  the  holy  place,  and 
only  Aaron's  family  could  enter  the  holiest  of  all. 
He  could  not,  then,  enter  the  chamber  which  was 
the  emblem  of  God's  immediate  presence  without  a 
breach  of  law  ;  and  he  "  came  not  to  destroy,  but 
to  fulfil  the  law."  It  "  became  him  to  fulfil  all  right- 
eousness." 

2.  Ceremonial. — The  holy  of  holies  could  only  be 
entered  with  blood  ;  and  he  had  none  to  present. 
The  lamb,  the  goat,  the  bullock,  all  belonged  to 
others.  The  time  had  not  yet  come  for  his  having 
to  do  with  blood.  Things  that  differ  must  not  be 
confounded  ;  the  shadow  must  not  be  mixed  up 
with  the  substance  ;  the  sacrifice  must  still  be  left 
in  Levitical  hands,  and  the  altar  must  not  be  served 
by  a  son  of  Judah. 

3.  Typical. — He  was  himself  the  true  sacrifice, 
the  bearer  of  sin.  As  such  he  lived  and  died.  In 
all  that  he  did,  and  in  all  that  he  refrained  from 
doing  ;  in  the  places  that  he  visited,  and  in  the 
places  that  he  abstained  from  visiting,  he  kept  this 
in  view.  He  was  loaded  with  our  sin,  our  curse, 
our  condemnation,  our  leprosy  ;  and,  as  such,  he 
must  keep  at  a  distance  from  the  holy  and  the 
clean.  Not  merely  was  he  the  rejected  of  men, — 
thrust  outside  their  dwellings,  their  cities,  their 
synagogues,  having  no  place  to  lay  his  head,  treated 
as  a  madman,  a  Samaritan,  a  devil  ;  but  he  was  the 
outcast,  the  condemned  One  ;  with  the  law's  brand 


52  THE  BANISHED  ONE 

upon  him  ;  "  made  sin  for  us  ;"  made  "  a  curse  for 
us."  As  such,  his  true  place  was  outside  the  city 
of  God  ;  outside  the  dwelling  of  the  Holy  One.  If 
permitted  to  resort  to  Jerusalem,  he  can  only  do  so 
as  a  stranger  or  wayfaring  man,  who  comes  in  with 
the  crowd  during  the  day,  but  retires  at  night.  If 
allowed  to  frequent  the  temple,  he  can  only  come 
as  far  as  the  outer  court,  on  the  common  footing  of 
a  sinner, — -just  as  the  publican  might  do.  He 
might  stand  and  see  the  daily  sacrifice  offered  ;  he 
might  watch  the  shedding  of  the  blood  and  the 
consuming  of  the  victim  ;  but  only  as  one  of  the 
crowd.  He  might  stand,  on  the  day  of  atonement, 
and  see  the  two  goats  chosen  by  the  high  priest  ; 
he  might  listen  to  the  confession  of  sin  over  the 
head  of  the  one,  and  mark  the  pouring  out  of  the 
other's  blood  ;  he  might  see  the  high  priest  take 
the  basin,  and  carry  the  blood  into  the  holiest, 
Himself  standing  on  the  outside,  and,  though  the 
Blessed  One,  waiting  amid  the  crowd  to  receive  the 
priestly  blessing  of  another.  More  than  this 
he  might  not  do.  Were  he  to  go  beyond  the 
circle  thus  marking  off  the  limits  within  which  he 
was  to  walk,  he  would  not  have  been  acting  as  the 
Sin-bearer,  nor  submitting  to  be  dealt  with  as  an 
outcast  and  a  curse  for  us. 

Sin  had  banished  us  from  God,  casting  us  out  of 
his  paradise,  and  hindering  us  from  appearing  in 
his  presence.  The  Son  of  God  came  to  take  our 
place  of  banishment,  that,  by  so  doing,  he  might 
effect  our  restoration.     He  became,  in  all  respects, 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  53 

a  hanislied  man.  His  birth  in  the  stable  of  Beth- 
lehem shewed  us  this.  His  flight  into  Egypt  shewed 
it  still  more  ;  as  if,  when  he  did  come  to  earth,  he 
was  not  to  have  a  safe  abode  anywhere,  save  in  a 
land  of  strangers.  His  abode  at  Nazareth,  that  un- 
godly city,  shewed  it  again.  His  having  to  resort 
to  the  far  mountain  for  prayer,  instead  of  to  his  Fa- 
ther's house,  which  was  the  house  of  prayer,  shewed 
this  also.  His  never  entering  the  holy  parts  of 
the  temple,  but  always  remaining  outside,  shewed 
this  again.  And,  lastly,  his  death,  "  without  the 
gate,"  finished  the  manifestation  of  his  humbled,  out- 
cast condition  here.  He  is  so  completely  identified 
with  the  sinner,  the  outcast,  the  banished  one,  that 
he  is  not  only  deemed  unworthy  to  live  within  Jeru- 
salem, but  even  to  die  within  its  walls.  As  the 
great  sin-offering,  he  goes  without  the  camp,  there 
to  complete  his  sin-bearing  work,  and  to  sum  up 
the  testimony  which  his  whole  life  had  given,  viz., 
that  he  was  standing  in  the  sinner's  place,  enduring 
the  banishment  of  the  banished  one,  bearing  the 
curse  of  the  cursed  one,  submitting  to  the  condemna- 
tion of  the  condemned  one;  andneverfor  one  moment 
contradicting  or  modifying  the  testimony,  intended 
to  be  given  by  his  life,  to  his  sin-bearing  character 
and  work  ;  never  in  anything,  great  or  small,  step- 
ping beyond  the  limits  that  marked  out  his  myste- 
rious path  on  earth  as  "  the  Lamb  of  God  that 
taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

Christ's  exclusion  from  the  holy  of  holies  would 
not  have  been  a  thing  so  noticeable,  were  it  not 


54  THE  BANISHED  OXE 

that  he  had,  of  all  others,  a  right  to  enter  it, — nay, 
and  to  abide  there.  That  inner  shrine  was  his  law- 
ful and  patrimonial  dwelling,  his  true  and  proper 
home.  No  one,  not  even  Aaron  himself,  could 
claim  the  right  of  entrance  as  he  could.  Not,  in- 
deed, as  David's  Son,  but  as  David's  Lord  ;  not  as 
the  Son  of  Judah,  but  as  the  Son  of  God  ;  not  as 
possessed  of  ritual  or  legal  warrant;  but  as  the 
Holy  One  and  the  Just." 

For  that  solemn  chamber,  where  were  the  ark, 
and  the  mercy- seat,  and  the  cherubim,  and  the 
glory,  was  the  special  emblem  of  Jehovah's  highest 
habitation;  the  type  of  the  presence-chamber  in 
the  very  heaven  of  heavens  ;  nay,  may  we  not  say, 
the  symbol  of  that  very  "  bosom  of  the  Father"  out 
of  which  the  only-begotten  Son  came  forth  ?  That 
holy  habitation  above  had  been  his  abode  from  eter- 
nity ;  and  what,  then,  more  natural  than  that  when 
he  came  to  earth  he  should  take  up  his  dwelling  in 
that  lower  sanctuary,  which  was  the  shadow  and 
representation  of  his  glorious  palace  above  ?  Here 
we  should  have  expected  him  to  have  been  born  and 
lived  while  here.  And,  just  as  worldly,  carnal  men 
would  have  supposed  that  the  Son  of  the  Highest, 
when  coming  to  earth,  would  chose  a  noble  metro- 
polis and  a  splendid  palace  for  his  abode,  so  spiri- 
tual men  would  have  assigned  to  him  the  holiest  of 
all,  in  Jehovah's  temple,  as  his  birthplace  and  his 
habitation  here. 

It  would  have  been  most  suitable  ;  and  surely  he 
had  a  right  to  it.    The  temple  itself  was  his  Father's 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  55 

house,  and  the  best  room  in  that  house  would  be  at 
his  service.  Others  might  be  shut  out ;  he  would  not. 
The  veil  that  was  drawn  against  others  would  open 
to  admit  him.  Who  could  resist  his  claim,  if  he 
had  asked  admission  ?  His  right  was  indisputable, 
as  the  very  Son  of  God.  Judea  was  his,  for  it  was 
Immanuel's  land.  Jerusalem  was  his,  for  it  was 
the  city  of  the  great  King.  The  temple  was  his, 
for  it  was  his  Father's  house.  The  holy  of  holies 
was  his,  for  it  was  the  express  representative  on 
earth  of  that  very  heaven  which  he  had  left,  when 
coming  to  do  the  Father's  will. 

Yet  He  entered  not  that  inner  sanctuary,  nor  ever 
went  beyond  the  altar  and  the  laver  without, — the 
court  in  which  the  publican  stood  and  cried,  "God 
be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner."  He  saw  daily  the 
priests  entering  the  second  court,  the  holy  place, 
yet  went  he  not  in.  He  saw  the  high  priest,  once 
a  year,  take  the  blood  of  the  goat,  and  enter  into 
the  holiest  of  all,  yet  went  he  not  in.  Though  con- 
scious of  an  innate  and  inalienable  right  to  enter, 
He  yet  remained  without,  as  one  who,  from  some 
mysterious  cause,  was  excluded  from  his  lawful  and 
patrimonial  abode. 


SERMON  VIII. 

THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT. 

"Jesus  walked  in  the  temple,  in  Solomon's  porch." — John  x.  23. 

The  one  hindrance  to  His  exercise  of  this  his  divine 
right  of  entrance  into  the  holiest  of  all,  was  our 
iniquity,  which  was  lying  on  him.  That  kept  him 
out.  Until  that  was  fully  borne,  he  could  not 
enter  either  the  sanctuary  below  or  the  presence- 
chamber  above.  In  taking  our  sin  upon  him,  as  he 
did  from  the  moment  of  his  incarnation,  he  had 
consented  to  forego  for  a  time  his  right  of  entrance 
into  the  Father's  presence,  and  into  that  place 
where  the  glorious  symbol  of  that  presence  dwelt. 
He  had  consented  to  be  an  outcast,  to  stand  only 
in  the  place  where  sin  is  borne,  not  in  the  place 
where  iniquity  is  remembered  no  more.  It  was  as 
the  banished  One  that  he  passed  through  earth, 
having  no  place  to  lay  his  head.  It  was  as  the 
outcast  that  he  never  went  beyond  the  outer  court 
of  the  temple.  It  was  as  such  that  we  find  him 
walking  in  Solomon's  porch,  thus  proclaiming  to  all 
who  truly  understood  his  character  and  work,  that 
he  was  acting  as  the  sinners  substitute, — taking 

the  sinner's  place  of  exile,  not  merely  outside  the 
56 


THE  BANISHED  ONE  BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.     57 

blessed  heaven,  where  he  had  dwelfc  from  everlast- 
ing, but  outside  even  his  Father's  house  below. 

Some  speak  much  of  his  not  having  been  born 
in  a  palace,  and  dwell  on  the  humiliation  of  his 
being  without  any  vestige  of  human  royalty.  But 
these  were,  after  all,  but  common,  and,  we  may  say, 
carnal  things.  It  was  a  light  thing  to  be  kept  out 
of  David's  house  or  Herod's  palace ;  but  it  was  no 
light  thing  to  be  excluded  from  his  Father's  house, 
his  own  proper  home.  More  than  ever  David  did, 
would  he  desire  the  tabernacles  of  Jehovah;  his 
flesh  and  heart  would  cry  out  for  God ;  and  howpecu- 
liar  must  have  been  his  feelings,  in  being  thus  made 
to  stand  outside  the  sanctuary,  the  very  place  to 
which  he  had  so  undoubted  a  right,  and  in  which 
it  would  have  been  his  delight  to  dwell !  Instead 
of  communing  with  his  Father  in  his  own  holy 
dwelling-place,  he  had  to  resort  to  the  Mount  of 
Olives,  and  such  unsheltered  solitudes,  as  if  he  had 
not  only  no  place  to  lay  his  head,  but  no  sanctuary 
to  betake  himself  to,  no  closet  into  which  he  might 
enter.  So  strangely  shut  out  was  he  from  all  places 
to  which,  either  as  Son  of  Man,  or  as  Son  of  God, 
he  would  desire  to  visit  or  to  dwell  in  ! 

When  he  died  on  the  cross,  the  veil  was  rent  in 
twain,  and  he  might  then  have  entered.  The 
reasons  for  his  exclusion  were  at  an  end ;  and  his 
banished  life  was  over.  Judaic  ritualism  was  ex- 
hausted and  cancelled.  Blood  had  been  shed,  to 
enable  any  one  to  enter  in,  priest  or  no  priest, 
whether  belonging:  to  Judah  or  to  Levi  ;  whether 


58  THE  BANISHED  ONE 

on  the  day  of  atonement  or  not.  And,  in  testimony 
of  all  this,  he  might  have  entered  the  holiest  of  all, 
at  his  resurrection.  But  this  would  have  been  a 
small  thing,  and  one  which  might  have  raised . 
misconceptions  as  to  the  meaning  and  importance 
of  the  very  rites  that  were  now  to  be  done  away. 
Instead,  then,  of  entering  the  earthly  sanctuary, 
he  passed  upward  into  the  heavenly  ;  instead  of 
claiming  his  right  to  enter  the  typical  holy  of  holies, 
he  did  that  which  was  of  far  deeper  signification 
"and  higher  moment,  he  entered  in  and  took  posses- 
sion of  the  true  holy  of  holies  above,  in  token  of 
his  having  fulfilled  his  time  of  banishment,  finished 
his  work,  and  removed  every  hindrance  which  stood 
in  the  way  of  those,  for  whom  he  was  the  substitute 
below,  and  of  whom  he  was  to  be  the  representative 
above. 

See  him,  then,  in  these  two  different  conditions, 
—  (1.)  walking  in  Solomon's  porch  ;  (2.)  seated  at 
the  right  hand  of  God. 

1.  Walking  in  Solomons  porch. — He  walks  there 
as  the  Substitute  ;  our  Substitute  as  truly,  as  when 
he  groaned  in  Gethsemane  or  died  on  Golgotha.  As 
one  consenting  for  a  season  to  be  shut  out  from  the 
presence  of  God,  that  we  might  enter  and  dwell  in 
that  presence  for  ever,  he  stands,  or  sits,  or  walks 
outside  the  sanctuary.  Thus  it  is  that  he  bears 
our  banishment  :  he  takes  upon  him  not  merely 
the  penalty  of  suffering  and  death,  but  that  of 
exclusion  from  the  house  and  home  of  God.  That 
penalty  he  has  endured  :  that  exile  he  has  under- 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  59 

gone  :  that  distance  he  has  experienced  :  and  all 
this  as  the  Substitute,  bearing  what  we  should  have 
borne,  in  order  that  we  might  inherit  all  to  which 
he  could  lay  claim.  Through  means  of  this  sub- 
stitution of  the  Son  of  God  in  the  room  of  the 
exiled  sinner,  that  sinner  finds  free  access  to  the 
innermost  shrine  of  heaven,  the  very  presence  of 
the  Father.  And  the  Father's  message  to  each 
banished  one  is,  enter  in  !  Stand  no  longer  afar 
off  ;  despair  no  more,  as  if  the  gate  were  closed. 
Behold,  it  is  open,  wide  open  !  Go  in  at  once,  and 
end  your  banishment.  Go  in,  and  find  peace, 
love,  friendship,  acceptance,  through  him,  to  whose 
finished  work  of  glorious  substitution  the  Father  is 
bearing  such  blessed  testimony  !  Why  should  we 
depart  from  the  living  God,  seeing  the  Son  of  God 
has  removed  all  reason  for  our  departure  ?  Why 
remain  in  alienation,  seeing  here  is  that  which  has 
taken  away  all  the  hindrances  in  the  way  of  friend- 
ship ?  Why  remain  afar  off,  seeing  God  asks  you 
to  come  nigh  ?  Why  stand  outside,  seeing  God 
says,  Come  in  ? 

Nor  is  it  bare  liberty  of  entrance  that  has  been 
secured ;  as  if  the  door  had  been  reluctantly  thrown 
open,  and  the  way  grudgingly  cleared  for  us.  Such 
is  the  efficacy  of  our  Substitute's  life  and  death, 
that  "we  have  boldness  to  enter  into  the  holiest" 
(Heb.  x.  19).  We  need  not  hide  ourselves  in  the 
thicket ;  we  need  not  run  away  from  God  ;  we 
need  not,  in  terror  and  uncertainty,  steal  slowly 
and  sadly  back  to  our  Father's  house  ;  we  need  not 


60  THE  BANISHED  ONE 

wait,  nor  doubt,  nor  suspect,  nor  distrust ;  we  may 
go  at  once,  and  go  boldly,  to  God,  on  the  simple  secu- 
rity given  to  the  sinner  by  the  work  of  the  divine 
Sin-bearer.  That  work  has  not  simply  made  it  pos- 
sible for  God  to  receive  us,  but  secured  our  recep- 
tion. It  has  not  simply  unbarred  the  gate,  but  flung 
it  open,  as  widely  open  as  God  himself  could  fling  it. 
or  as  any  sinner  needs  that  it  should  be  flung.  Nay, 
it  has  sent  out  messengers  of  peace  and  messages 
of  love,  assuring  us  not  only  of  a  welcome  when  we 
return,  but  of  God's  sincere  desire  that  we  should 
do  so.  It  has  not  merely  removed  the  restraints 
on  grace  which  law  imposed,  and  set  it  free  to  pour 
itself  out  freely  ;  but  it  has  made  grace  a  righteous 
thing ;  so  that  now  love  is  righteousness,  and  right- 
eousness is  love. 

It  is  not  possible  to  imagine  greater  freeness  for 
the  sinner,  in  his  going  to  God,  than  has  been  pro- 
vided by  the  vicarious  life  and  death  of  Him  who  is 
i{  the  end  of  the  law,  for  righteousness  to  every  one 
that  believeth."  Nothing  can  be  freer,  safer,  surer, 
than  "the  new  and  living  way."  Yet,  who  goes 
in  ;  who  cares  for  it ;  "  who  hath  believed  our  re- 
port?' The  tread  of  returning  feet  makes  no 
noise  in  our  world  ;  for  the  home-goers  are  so  few, 
and  so  far  between  each  other.  But  the  sound  of 
wandering  feet  is  like  the  tread  of  millions.  The 
noise  of  home-leavers,  hastening  from  their  Father's 
house,  they  know  not  whither,  fills  the  wide  air  of 
earth  ;  and,  while  men  hear,  in  that  sound,  only 
mirth  and  joyance,  faith  hears  in  it  sadness,  and 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  61 

unrest,  and  the  cravings  of  empty  hearts,  and  the 
self-tolled  knell  of  overhanging  judgment,  to  which, 
though  they  will  not  believe  it,  they  are  hasten- 
ing on. 

0  men,  and  friends,  and  fellow-exiles,  we  beseech 
you  to  turn  back  on  your  way  of  peril  and  sin.  Turn 
back,  lest  ye  perish !  By  the  death  of  Him  who  died 
the  sinner's  death,  by  the  life  of  Him  who  lived  on 
earth  the  sinner's  life  of  banishment,  we  entreat  you 
to  bethink  yourselves,  and  turn  your  footsteps  to- 
wards your  Father's  still-open  home. 

2.  Look  at  Him  within  the  veil,  at  the  Fathers 
right  hand. — He  remained  on  the  outside  while 
here  ;  he  has  entered  in  at  last,  and  that,  not  into 
the  earthly  sanctuary,  the  mere  figure  of  the  true, 
but  into  heaven  itself,  there  to  appear  in  the  pre- 
sence of  God  for  us.  When  outside  here  on  earth, 
he  was  our  substitute ;  now  when  within,  in  heaven, 
he  is  our  representative.  He  has  gone  up  and  gone 
in  for  us.  He  carries  us  in  along  with  him,  and 
gives  those,  who  accept  his  substitution  and  repre- 
sentation, the  same  privilege  of  nearness  and  fellow- 
ship as  he  has  himself.  As  our  High  Priest,  he 
communicates  between  us  and  God.  As  Interces- 
sor, he  pleads  our  case.  As  Representative,  he  has 
so  identified  himself  with  our  persons,  that  we  are 
lost  sight  of  under  his  shadow.  The  Father  sees 
him  in  us,  and  us  in  him.  All  our  imperfection  is 
lost  in  his  glorious  perfection  ;  and  we,  in  being 
presented  to  the  Father,  are  presented  as  part  of 
his   glorious   self;    all    our  uncomeliness  for  ever 


62  THE  BANISHED  ONE 

merged  in  the  infinite  comeliness  of  the  beloved 
Son. 

From  the  moment  that  faith  linked  ns  to  his 
cross,  and  identified  us  with  his  person,  we  becajne 
inseparable.  In  no  aspect  could  God  view  us,  save 
as  part  of  his  Son, — nay,  wholly  one  with  him. 
And  this  connection,  though  now  one  of  faith,  is 
ere  long  to  be  one  of  sight.  "  When  he  who  is  our 
life  shall  appear,  we  shall  appear  with  him  in  glory." 
His  second  coming  will  be  the  visible  completion  of 
the  wondrous  identification,  which  faith  at  first  ac- 
complished. Resurrection  will  bring  out,  more  fully 
than  either  life  or  death,  the  mysterious  oneness 
between  the  body  and  the  Head.  One  cross,  one 
death,  one  grave,  was  ours  ;  for  his  cross  was  ours, 
his  death  ours,  his  grave  ours.  So,  one  glory,  one 
crown,  one  kingdom,  one  city,  one  inheritance,  shall 
be  ours  hereafter  ;  for  all  that  he  has  is  ours.  He, 
one  with  us,  took  our  place  of  exile  outside  the 
veil,  and  bore  our  shame,  our  suffering,  our  death. 
We,  one  with  him,  get  his  place  of  nearness  to  the 
Father,  within  the  veil,  and  entrance  to  the  many 
mansions  of  the  eternal  house  ;  receiving  the  life, 
the  love,  the  blessing,  the  eternal  gladness,  which  he 
has  purchased  for  us,  and  which  he  so  freely,  so 
lovingly,  presents  to  each  one  who  is  now  afar  off, 
each  banished  child  of  Adam,  each  prodigal  of 
earth,  wandering  in  the  far  country,  without  a 
home  or  a  Father,  without  a  sanctuary,  and  with- 
out a  God. 

It  is  to  this  innermost  place  in  the  heaven  of 


BEARING  OUR  BANISHMENT.  G3 

heavens,  this  innermost  glory  above,  that  the  Lord 
invites  the  outermost  of  the  sons  of  men,  the  farthest 
off  of  all  earth's  far-off  wanderers.  In  love  he  took 
the  lowest  place,  that  he  might  invite  us  to  the 
highest.  In  love  he  went  to  the  farthest  circle  of 
banishment  that  this  earth  knows,  in  order  that, 
by  bearing  that  banishment,  he  might  bring  us  into 
the  very  centre  of  divine  fellowship,  and  nearness, 
and  heavenly  gladness, — to  the  very  bosom  of  the 
Father,  out  of  which  he  himself  had  come,  seeking 
the  lost,  and  devising  means  whereby  his  banished 
should  be  restored.  Ah,  surely  there  is  not  any- 
thing in  our  banishment  that  should  lead  us,  for  one 
moment,  to  prefer  it  to  our  Father's  presence,  nor 
anything  in  the  distant  land  of  exile,  to  make  us 
refuse  for  it  the  paradise  of  God  ! 


SEEMON   IX, 

THE    SERVANT    OF    SINNERS. 
"I  am  among  you  as  he  that  serveth." — Luke  xxii.  27. 

We  find  in  these  words  a  double  reference  ;  first 
to  the  character,  and  secondly  to  the  office,  of  the 
Son  of  man  ;  to  his  character  as  the  lowly  one,  to 
his  office  as  the  servant.  For  the  purpose  of  bring- 
ing both  these  things  before  his  disciples,  he  makes 
use  of  those  marvellous  words,  "  I  am  among  you 

as  THE   SERVING   ONE. 

The  dispute  among  the  disciples  respecting  pre- 
eminence must  have  grieved  and  wounded  him  ; 
more  especially  because  of  the  time  when  this  jea- 
lous strife  arose.  Scarcely  had  they  finished  the 
first  solemn  supper,  the  newly-instituted  memorial 
of  the  body  and  blood  of  the  Lord  ;  scarcely  had 
the  Master  ceased  warning  them  of  the  traitor,  and 
the  treachery  that  was  among  them  ;  scarcely  had 
their  own  searching  inquiry  ended,  "Is it  I?''  when 
there  arose  "  a  strife  among  them,  which  of  them 
should  be  accounted  the  greatest."  How  strange 
and  sad,  how  almost  incredible,  the  scene  !  Rising 
from  the  table  of  love  to  contend  for  the  mastery, 
the  one  over  the  other  ;  to  wound  the  ear  and 
heart  of  the  Master  with  their  angry  words  and 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  65 

selfish  arguments  ;  to  turn  the  holy  quiet  of  that 
upper  chamber  into  a  stir  of  strife,  and  ambition, 
and  jealous  wrangling,  in  the  very  presence  of  the 
Lord, — how  unbecoming,  how  unkind,  how  incon- 
ceivably selfish  and  hateful ! 

To  calm  this  tumult,  to  allay  this  strife,  to  stop 
the  mouths  of  the  disputants,  the  Lord  interposes; 
and  he  does  so  in  a  way  so  pointed,  yet  so  mild 
and  loving,  as  must  have  overwhelmed  the  contend- 
ers,  and  covered  their  faces  with  shame. 

The  burden  of  his  rebuke  is  just  this, — "  Look 
at  me;  am  I  striving  for  pre-eminence  ?  Am  I  covet- 
ing honour,  or  power,  or  greatness  ?  Am  I  even  ex- 
ercising superiority  over  you  ?  Am  I  not  foregoing 
even  my  rightful  claim  of  service,  and  acting  as 
your  servant?  Instead  of  demanding  service  at  your 
hands,  I  am  among  you  as  he  that  serveth."  He 
admits  that  this  is  not  man's  principle  of  acting,  or 
estimate  of  service.  He  shews  that  this  is  not  the 
scale  on  which  earthly  distinctions  are  graduated. 
Among  the  nations  of  the  earth  each  one  strives  to 
be  uppermost,  and  covets  the  titles  which  rank  con- 
fers. But  with  his  disciples  this  order  was  to  be 
wholly  reversed.  Man's  idea  of  greatness  was  that 
of  pre-eminence  over  his  fellow-man,  in  virtue  of 
which  all  should  be  his  servants  ;  God's  idea  of 
greatness  was  that  of  lowly  love,  in  virtue  of  which 
a  man  should  be  willing  to  be  the  servant  of  all. 

To  this  life  of  lowly  love,  this  posture  of  willing 
service,  this  place  of  subjection,  and  self-denial, 
and  dependence,  it  was,  that  he,  the  Son  of  God, 

JB 


C)6  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 

had  stooped  from  the  highest  heaven  :  and  was  it 
possible  for  a  man,  a  sinner,  to  cherish  ambitious 
thoughts  of  supremacy  or  earthly  honour  ?  The 
Son  of  man  had  come,  not  to  be  ministered  unto,, 
but  to  minister  ;  and,  in  the  fulfilment  of  that  mi- 
nistry (that  service),  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for 
many.  And  did  not  this  shew  the  true  law  of  the 
kingdom,  the  principle  on  which  God  was  acting, 
and  on  which  he  was  calling  us  to  act ;  did  it  not  tell 
us  that  our  aim  should  be,  not  to  soar,  but  to  stoop; 
that  greatness  lies,  not  in  ascending  above  others, 
but  in  descending  beneath  them  ;  and  that  the 
highest  seat  of  honour  is,  in  truth,  the  lowest  place 
of  service, — service  that  counts  no  office  mean, 
no  labour  great,  no  sacrifice  costly, — service  that 
is  willing  to  go  down  even  to  the  tomb  itself  in 
the  performance  of  its  offices  of  love  ? 

Shall  we  not  then  covet  this  honour  ;  this  pecu- 
liar honour,  so  unlike  all  that  is  human,  so  truly 
divine;  the  honour  of  lowly  service;  the  honour  of 
resembling  Him  who  took  upon  him  the  form  of 
a  servant,  who  girded  himself  with  the  towel,  that 
he  might  wash  his  disciples'  feet,  and  who  has  left 
us  this  precept  for  our  daily  practice,  "  If  I  then, 
your  Lord  and  Master,  have  washed  your  feet,  ye 
also  ought  to  wash  one  another's  feet ;  for  I  have 
given  you  an  example,  that  ye  should  do  as  I  have 
done  unto  you  ?"  When  we  hear  him  saying,  I  am 
among  you  as  he  that  serveth,  shall  we  not  be 
ashamed  of  our  pride,  and  ambition,  and  love  of 
ease,  and  fastidiousness,  and  self-pleasing  ?     When 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  67 

we  see  him  serving,  shall  we  not  also  serve  ?  When 
we  see  him  stretching  out  his  hands  to  all,  however 
unworthy  and  unloveable,  shall  we  ever  turn  away, 
in  weariness  or  in  disgust,  from  any  soul  on  earth, 
even  the  unworthiest  and  most  unloveable  of  all  ? 

But  our  object  at  present  is  not  to  dwell  upon 
Christ's  lowliness  and  obedience;  nor  to  set  forth 
these  as  our  example;  nor  to  shew  the  law  of  the 
kingdom,  that  service  is  the  true  nobility.  We 
wish  to  exhibit  the  service  itself  of  which  He  speaks; 
to  bring  before  you  Christ  the  servant  ;  not  merely 
Christ  the  Fathers  servant,  doing  the  Father's  will, 
but  Christ  a  servant  to  us  and  for  us  ;  Christ  ful- 
filling this  lowly  office,  in  order  to  meet  the  case  of 
the  neediest. 

Let  us  consider  these  three  things  in  reference 
to  this  service,  — first,  its  history  ;  secondly,  its 
nature  ;  and  thirdly,  the  ends  and  objects  which  it 
is  intended  to  meet. 

I.  Its  history. — It  is  not  with  His  birth  in  Beth- 
lehem that  Christ's  service  begins.  His  visit  to  our 
first  father  in  Paradise  was  its  true  commencement. 
After  that  we  find  him,  age  after  age,  visiting  the 
children  of  men,  and  always  in  the  character  of  one 
ministering  to  their  wants.  His  intercourse  with 
Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  was  that  of  one 
offering,  not  ashing,  service.  In  his  dealings  with 
Israel,  we  find  the  same  unwearied,  ever-watch- 
ful ministry  ;  for  the  pillar-cloud  that  led  them, 
that  sheltered  them,  that  guarded  them  by  night 


68  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS 

and  day,  was  the  dwelling  of  the  Son  of  God,  the 
visible  exhibition  of  his  presence  and  service.  It 
was  he  who  ministered  to  them  in  the  desert.  He 
fought  their  battles.  He  selected  their  encamp-, 
ments.  He  shaded  them  from  the  scorching  sun. 
He  drew  water  for  them  out  of  the  rock,  and 
brought  food  out  of  the  storehouses  of  heaven.  In 
Canaan,  too,  he  ministered  to  them,  generation 
after  generation  ;  and  the  long  record  of  Israel  is 
the  history  of  his  manifold  service. 

At  his  birth,  his  life  of  service  visibly  began. 
It  was  to  serve  that  he  descended  to  Bethlehem. 
And  his  life  at  Nazareth  for  thirty  years  was  a  life 
of  service.  In  the  three  years  and  a  half  of  his 
jjuhlic  ministry,  he  shewed  how  skilful  he  was  in 
serving,  how  willing  to  undertake  it  in  all  its  parts. 
At  the  well  of  Jacob  we  find  him  serving  a  needy  ■ 
sinner ;  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Pharisee  we  find 
him  doing  the  same.  In  the  house  of  Lazarus  we 
find  him  ministering  to  saints.  Wherever  he  goes, 
we  find  him  still  exercising  the  same  lowly  vocation ; 
ministering  alike  to  soul  and  body,  to  Pharisee  and 
publican,  to  child  or  to  man,  to  Jew,  or  to  Sa- 
maritan, or  to  Gentile.  The  upper  chamber,  Geth- 
semane,  Pilate's  hall,  the  cross,  the  grave, — these 
were  all  places  of  service.  After  his  resurrection, 
on  the  way  to  Emmaus,  on  the  shore  of  the  lake, 
we  find  him  still  the  same. 

At  his  ascension  He  onlv  entered  on  a  new  de- 
partment  of  service  ;  and  as  the  Advocate  with  the 
Father,  the  Intercessor,   the   Forerunner,   we  see 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  69 

him  still  serving.  As  the  priests  under  the  law 
were,  in  all  things  relating  to  the  tabernacle,  the 
people's  servants,  ever  standing  ready  to  do  the 
required  work  to  any  Israelite,  so  is  our  Intercessor. 
He  stands  ready  to  take  up  any  case  that  may  be 
put  into  his  hands.  He  wearies  not  ;  he  is  not 
provoked  ;  he  turns  not  away  ;  as  willing  and 
prompt  to  serve,  even  the  most  unworthy,  as  in 
the  days  of  his  flesh.  For  the  glory  that  sur- 
rounds him  above  has  not  altered  his  love  or  his 
meekness  of  spirit,  nor  made  him  ashamed  of  the 
lowly  office  which  he  exercised  here,  as  the  ser- 
vant of  the  needy  and  the  evil. 

Nor,  when  he  comes  again  in  strength  and 
majesty,  as  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords,  does 
he  lose  sight  of  his  character  as  the  ministering  one. 
Hence  in  that  passage  in  which  he  refers  to  this 
day  of  glory  (Luke  xii.  37),  he  makes  reference  to 
this  same  gracious  office  as  not  even  then  laid  aside, 
— " Blessed  are  those  servants,"  says  He,  "whom 
the  Lord,  when  he  cometh,  shall  find  watching : 
verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  he  shall  gird  himself, 
and  make  them  to  sit  down  to  meat,  and  will  come 
forth  and  serve  tliem;"  as  if,  even  in  that  day  of 
triumph  and  happy  festival,  there  would  be  some- 
thing omitted,  something  incomplete,  something 
incongruous,  something  not  like  himself,  if  he  did 
not  then  find  scope  for  his  old  office  of  condescending 
love,  and  appear,  even  at  his  own  marriage  supper, 
as  the  servant  of  his  ransomed  ones. 


SERMON  X. 

THE    SERVANT    OF    SINNERS. 
"  I  am  among  you,  as  he  that  serveth." — Luke  xxii.  27. 

II.  Let  us  consider  the  nature  of  this  service. — It  is 
in  all  respects  like  Himself, — like  Him  who,  though 
he  was  rich,  for  our  sakes  became  poor. 

(1.)  It  is  willing  service.  There  is  no  constraint, 
no  reluctance,  no  mere  official  performance  of  an 
appointed  duty.  In  the  anticipation  of  coming  to 
earth  as  the  Father's  servant  he  says,  "  I  delight 
to  do  thy  will;"  and  we  know  that  it  is  as  the  Fa- 
ther's servant  that  he  is  also  ours.  He  is  the  will- 
ing messenger  of  the  Father's  grace,  the  willing  exe- 
cutor of  the  Father's  purpose,  the  willing  almoner 
of  the  Father's  blessing,  the  willing  endurer  of  the 
Father's  wrath,  the  willing  sacrifice  for  sin,  the  will- 
ing bearer  of  our  sorrows  and  burdens.  All  is  will- 
ingness with  him  ;  most  unreserved  and  perfect 
willingness.  His  varied  rounds  of  service  are  no 
heavy  task.  He  is  the  willing  servant  of  the 
needy. 

(2.)  It  is  a  loving  service.  Out  of  no  fountain 
save  that  of  love  could  such  amazing,  such  endless 
acts  of  service  flow.  The  loving  and  the  serving 
are  inseparable.     The  kind  of  service  which  he  has 

70 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  71 

undergone,  and  which  he  still  undergoes,  admits  of 
no  construction  save  that  of  love.  Of  man's  acts 
of  service  towards  his  fellow- man,  however  great  or 
many,  you  have  still  the  suspicion  that  they  may 
be  the  mere  fulfilment  of  duty,  or  the  payment  of 
a  price.  But  Christ's  acts  of  service  cannot  be  thus 
misinterpreted.  They  can  mean  but  one  thing ; 
they  can  spring  from  but  one  source  ;  they  are  the 
utterance  but  of  one  feeling, — love. 

(3.)  It  is  self-denying  service.  It  is  written, 
"  Even  Christ  pleased  not  himself;"  and  how  often 
in  the  Psalms  does  he  breathe  out  the  heaviness  of 
his  spirit  when  making  mention  of  his  unrequited 
labours!  They  "gave  me  hatred  for  my  love;" 
"they  rewarded  me  evil  for  good,  to  the  spoiling 
of  my  soul."  To  continue  ministering,  day  after 
day,  in  the  midst  of  reproach,  and  opposition,  and 
rejection,  was  self-denial  and  devotedness  such  as 
man  can  hardly  either  credit  or  conceive.  In  en- 
countering the  uncongenialities  and  hostilities  of 
such  a  world  as  this,  when  stooping  to  serve  and 
bless  ;  in  meeting  with  such  unbelief,  such  igno- 
rance, such  frowardncss  as  he  had  to  deal  wTith 
among  his  disciples  themselves, — his  self-denial 
was  drawn  out  to  the  uttermost ;  and  though  his 
service  was  truly  willing  and  loving,  yet  it  was 
self-denying,  to  an  extent  of  which  we  can  have  no 
ictea.  The  Holy  One  coming  into  daily  contact 
with  sin  ;  the  Blessed  One  meeting  with  the  curse 
on  every  side,  yet  still  labouring  on,  still  carrying 
out  unshrinkingly  his  work  of  service  for  the  sons 


72  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 

of  men, — ah  !  this  is  self-denial,  such  as  could  have 
come  forth  from  no  bosom  save  his  own. 

(4.)  It  is  patient,  unwearied  service.  He  has  com- 
passion on  the  ignorant,  and  on  them  that  are  out 
of  the  way.  He  breaks  not  the  bruised  reed  ;  he 
quenches  not  the  smoking  flax.  He  is  ever  ready 
with  his  helping  hand.  He  grudges  no  toil,  no 
cost.  By  day  or  by  night  we  find  him  ever  girt  for 
service.  Tender,  gentle,  and  patient,  he  sends  none 
empty  away  ;  he  does  not  upbraid  them  with  re- 
quiring his  services  so  often,  or  with  needing  the 
same  help  again  and  again,  by  reason  of  their  own 
forgetfulness  or  perversity.  He  pities,  and  there- 
fore he  serves.  He  is  patient,  and  therefore  he 
serves.  He  is  tender  and  gracious,  and  therefore 
he  serves.  Instead  of  being  wearied  out  with  the 
multitude  of  applicants,  his  only  complaint  is,  that 
so  few  avail  themselves  of  his  help  : — "  Ye  will  not 
come  to  me."  Instead  of  grudging  the  labour  of 
supplying  so  many  ever-recurring  wants,  he  speaks 
as  one  to  whom  a  favour  is  done,  in  allowing  him 
to  be  the  servant  of  the  neediest. 

(5.)  It  is  free  service.  It  cannot  be  bought;  for 
what  gold  could  purchase  it  ?  Neither  does  it  need 
to  be  bought,  for  it  is  freely  rendered.  It  is  with- 
out money  and  without  price.  Service,  without 
wages  asked  or  given,  is  an  unknown  thing  among 
men.  Man  cannot  command  the  service  of  liis 
fellow-men  without  money.  But  it  is  not  so  with 
God.  All  is  of  grace.  The  love  is  free,  the  gift  is 
free,  the  life  is  free  ;  so  the  service  afforded  to  us, 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  73 

by  him  who  came  to  serve,  is  altogether  free  !  It 
is  freely  presented  to  us,  nay,  pressed  upon  us  by 
One  whose  delight  is  in  serving,  whose  honour  is  in 
serving,  and  whose  one  regret  is  that  there  are  so 
few  among  the  needy  ones  of  earth  who  will  allow 
him  to  serve  !  Oh,  that  you  would  but  accept  the 
service  of  the  Son  of  God  !  Oh,  that  you  would 
allow  him  to  gird  himself  with  the  towel,  that  he 
may  wash  you  !  Oh,  that  you  would  give  him 
the  joy,  the  honour,  that  his  heart  is  set  upon,  of 
ministering  to  you,  of  attending  on  you,  of  guiding 
your  steps  through  the  gloom,  and  the  storm,  and 
the  weariness,  and  the  warfare  of  the  desert,  till  he 
land  you  in  the  promised  kingdom,  and  set  you 
down  at  his  marriage-supper, — there  and  then  to 
know  what  the  service  of  love  can  do,  even  for 
the  weakest  and  unworthiest  of  those  whom  the 
blood  has  washed. 

III.  Its  ends  and  objects. — It  is  to  sinners  that 
this  service  is  rendered  ;  and  there  is  much  in  this 
to  exhibit  the  ends  which  it  has  in  view.  They  to 
whom  Christ  presents  himself  as  the  willing,  loving, 
self-denying,  patient  servant,  are  not  some  nobler 
race  of  creatures,  worthy  of  such  condescension. 
They  are  the  ungodly,  who  have  no  claim  upon 
this  gracious  One,  nothing  to  recommend  them  to 
his  regards,  save  their  poverty,  their  misery,  their 
helplessness,  and  the  impossibility  of  their  deliver- 
ing themselves,  or  finding  their  way  out  of  this 
region  of  darkness  into  the  kingdom  of  light. 


74  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 

No  question  is  made  as  to  the  character  of  the 
persons  to  be  saved;  no  objection  is  raised  as  to 
their  unfitness  or  undeservingness  ;  no  hesitation  is 
intimated  as  to  the  difficulty  of  the  case,  or  the 
greatness  of  the  guilt,  or  the  strength,  and  toil,  and 
care  needed  in  undertaking  it.  No  one  of  these 
things  is  mentioned,  nor  any  such  barrier  for  a 
moment  supposed  to  exist.  This  gracious  servant 
of  the  needy  is  willing  to  be  employed  by  any  one, 
no  matter  who,  let  him  be  the  poorest,  and  the 
sickliest,  and  the  feeblest  of  all  who  ever  sought  a 
helper,  a  protector,  or  a  guide,  on  their  way  to  the 
kingdom. 

We  need  forgiveness.  He  ministers  this  in  all  its 
fulness;  not  once,  nor  seven  times,  but  seventy 
times  seven ;  bringing  forth  to  us  each  hour,  for  our 
new  sins,  the  new  forgiveness  out  of  the  treasury 
of  God;  making  us  feel  how  exceeding  abundant 
must  be  the  grace  of  our  God,  that  can  afford  such 
endless  pardons  to  be  thus  so  freely  ministered. 

We  need  cleansing.  He  serves  us  also  in  this  ; 
girding  himself  with  his  towel,  and  washing  us  till 
we  are  clean  every  whit ;  aye,  washing  us  hourly  ; 
marking  with  the  eye  of  faithful,  patient  service 
every  spot  that  soils  us,  and  purging  it  off  with  the 
clean  water  of  the  heavenly  laver  ;  attending  our 
steps  as  we  pass  along  this  world's  polluted  high- 
ways, and  ready  every  moment  to  cleanse  our  feet 
from  each  newly  contracted  defilement. 

We  need  heeding.  He  ministers  healing  to  us. 
He  healeth  all  our  diseases.     With  unwearied  care 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  75 

and  heavenly  skill,  he  watches  every  turn  they 
take,  and  applies  at  once  the  suited  remedy.  Our 
languor  he  revives,  our  insensibility  he  quickens, 
our  callousness  he  softens,  our  parchedness  he  re- 
freshes, our  wounds  he  binds  up,  our  sickliness  he 
turns  into  health.  Thus  he  serves  us  in  patient 
love. 

We  need  strength.  He  serves  us  in  this  also,  with 
untiring  patience,  placing  all  his  strength  at  our 
service,  nay,  perfecting  his  strength  in  our  weak- 
ness. He  is  ever  helping  our  infirmities,  giving  us 
his  arm  to  lean  upon,  nay,  carrying  us,  as  a  shep- 
herd his  sheep,  when  too  feeble  to  go,  sustaining  us 
in  our  weariness,  reviving  us  in  our  faintness,  watch- 
ing our  steps  that  we  may  not  stumble,  teaching 
our  hands  to  war  and  our  fingers  to  fight, — nay, 
giving  us  the  victory.  No  sense  of  feebleness  or 
helplessness  should  ever  lead  us  to  despond.  No 
hosts  of  enemies,  whether  of  hell  or  earth,  no  ter- 
rors of  battle  set  in  array  against  us,  should  cause 
us  to  turn  back.  To  them  that  have  no  might  he 
increaseth  strength.  In  all  our  varied  weaknesses 
he  is  at  hand  to  serve. 

We  need  wisdom  and  guidance.  He  ministers 
these  to  us,  according  to  our  need.  He  is  made 
unto  us  wisdom.  He  guides  us  with  his  eye.  He 
pities  our  ignorance  and  perplexity,  and  takes  his 
willing  place  at  our  side,  to  instruct  and  to  lead. 
His  infinite  resources  he  places  at  our  disposal,  and 
invites  us  to  accept  of  his  service,  in  the  communi- 
cation of  all  wisdom,  and  knowledge,  and  prudence, 


76  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 

and  true  enlightenment  of  soul.  If  we  are  foolish, 
or  dark,  or  misled,  or  stumbling,  it  is  because  we 
will  not  have  him  to  serve  us  !  0  folly  without 
a  parallel,  to  decline  or  to  slight  such  an  offer  as 
this  ! 

We  need  faith  and  love.  He  increases  our  faith ; 
he  prays  for  us,  that  our  faith  fail  not ;  he  marks 
it  when  feeble  and  ready  to  give  way,  and  strength- 
ens it  anew.  So  with  our  love.  He  kindles  it,  and 
cherishes  it,  preventing  it  from  being  cooled  or 
quenched  in  this  unkindly  clime.  Oh,  what  should 
we  do  for  faith  or  love,  were  it  not  for  this  minis- 
tering One  !  Is  your  faith  feeble,  and  unbelief  ob- 
taining the  mastery  ?  Or,  is  your  love  becoming 
chill  and  heartless  ?  Accept  the  proffered  service 
of  the  gracious  Son  of  Man  ;  allow  him  to  do  that 
in  which  he  delights,  to  minister  to  you  in  these 
things  ;  so  shall  your  faith  wax  strong,  and  your 
love  become  fervent  like  his  own. 

We  need  protection.  He  is  our  shield  and  buck- 
ler. In  the  battle  he  covers  our  head,  and  thrusts 
danger  from  us.  Ever  ready,  at  our  right  hand  and 
at  our  left,  before  and  behind,  he  wards  off  the 
stroke,  or  anticipates  and  prevents  the  evil.  Un- 
weariedly  serving  us  as  our  protector,  and  wielding 
for  us  the  weapons  of  battle,  he  enables  us  to  say, 
with  tranquil  confidence,  The  Lord  is  on  my  side  ; 
I  will  not  fear  though  thousands  set  themselves 
against  me. 

But  I  cannot  number  our  wants.  They  are  nu- 
merous as  the  moments  that  run  on.     Each  day 


THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS.  77 

brings  forth  its  new  ones,  and  repeats  the  old. 
How  blessed,  how  comforting,  in  such  a  case,  to 
have  one  to  minister  to  them  all,  and  that  one 
none  other  than  the  Son  of  God  himself!  The 
Lord  is  our  Shepherd,  we  shall  not  want.  Jesus 
himself  is  he  who  waits  to  serve,  to  supply,  and 
to  satisfy.  What  can  make  us  fear  or  despond  ? 
What  can  make  our  hands  hang  down,  or  our 
knees  wax  feeble  ?  Our  strength  may  be  small ; 
he  will  increase  it.  Our  faith  may  be  feeble  ;  he 
will  give  it  might.  Perplexities  may  beset  us  ;  he 
will  guide  us  through.  Sorrow  may  press  us  down ; 
he  will  minister  consolation.  Sin  may  struggle 
hard  for  the  mastery;  he  will  subdue  it.  In  every 
scene,  and  place,  and  duty,  and  struggle,  and  trial, 
he  will  be  at  our  side,  as  the  servant,  to  minister  to 
us  in  everything,  so  that  in  nothing  we  may  be 
found  lacking. 

"  I  am  among  you  as  he  that  serve th."  Thus 
he  speaks  to  us  now  ;  coming  into  the  midst  of  us, 
and  proffering  his  gracious  services.  I  am  come, 
not  to  receive,  but  to  give  ;  not  to  be  filled,  but  to 
fill ;  not  to  be  healed,  but  to  heal ;  not  to  be  glad- 
dened, but  to  gladden  ;  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister  !  Oh,  who  is  there  that  can  listen 
coldly  to  such  an  announcement,  or  refuse  such  a 
proffer  of  service  ?  Shall  condescending  love  like 
this  be  trifled  with  or  set  at  nought  ? 

Is  there  some  one  here,  like  Peter,  ready  to  say, 
Surely  this  is  too  much  !  "  Lord,  thou  shalt  never 
wash  my  feet !  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  that  thou 


78  THE  SERVANT  OF  SINNERS. 

shouldst  perform  an  act  so  menial  for  such  as  I  am." 
Then  hear  the  answer, — "  If  I  wash  thee  not,  thou 
hast  no  part  in  me."  If  thou  wilt  not  allow  me 
thus  to  minister,  then  thou  canst  not  be  mine  ! 
Strange,  yet  blessed  thought !  We  cannot  be 
saved,  we  cannot  have  any  part  in  him,  unless 
we  allow  him  thus  to  perform  for  us  his  service  of 
lowly  love  !  It  is  as  the  servant  that  he  is  the 
Saviour  !  In  saving,  he  serves  ;  and  in  serving, 
he  saves  ! 

Do  we  not  often  lose  sight  of  this  ?  And,  in 
losing  sight  of  it,  how  much  do  we  miss  !  We 
should  be  holier,  as  well  as  more  blessed  men,  if 
we  did  but  allow  the  Master  to  serve  us  as  he  de- 
sires. We  should  be  wiser,  stronger,  more  full  of 
faith,  and  love,  and  zeal,  would  we  but  consent  to 
let  him  minister  to  us  in  all  the  varied  service  which 
we  need  so  much,  and  which  he  is  so  willing  to  per- 
form. The  Father's  servant  for  our  profit,  and  our 
servant  for  the  glory  of  the  Father,  he  presents 
himself  this  day  to  us,  seeking  to  be  employed  by 
us  in  his  lowly  office,  and  grieving  only  at  this, 
that  there  are  so  few  who  will  employ  him  ;  and 
that  even  those  who  do,  either  through  false  humi- 
lity or  self-reliance,  do  not  give  him,  even  to  the  ten 
thousandth  part,  the  extent  of  the  employment  that 
he  desires. 


SERMON  XT. 

CHRIST   THE   HEALEE. 

"  If  I  may  but  touch  his  garment,  I  shall  be  whole."— Matt.  ix.  21. 

Here,  we  may  say,  we  have  the  record  of  one  who 
had  learned  to  do  justice  to  the  love  of  God, — to 
the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Not  of  many 
can  this  be  said,  in  a  world  of  unbelief  like  ours ; 
but  here  is  one.  We  do  not  know  her  name;  no 
other  part  of  her  history  is  told  us ;  she  is  brought 
before  us  simply  as  one  who  trusted  in  the  Son  of 
God,  who  had  tasted  that  the  Lord  was  gracious. 
Like  a  sudden  star,  she  shines  out  and  then  disap- 
pears. But  her  simple  faith  remains  as  our 
example. 

It  is  not  the  great  multitude  "thronging"  Christ 
that  here  draws  our  eye.  It  is  the  woman  and  the 
Lord  ;  the  sick  one  and  her  Healer ;  the  sinner  and 
the  Saviour.  From  every  one  else  our  eye  is  turned, 
and  fixed  on  these.  In  this  brief  narrative  concern- 
ing them,  we  find  such  things  as  the  following : — 

I.  The  way  in  which  these  two  are  thrown  together. 
— The  Lord  has  just  received  the  ruler  s  message 
concerning  his  little  daughter,  and  he  js  hastening 
to  Capernaum.     His  direct  errand  is  about  her. 

70 


80  CHRIST  THE  HEALER. 

But,  on  his  way,  the  Father  finds  much  for  him  to 
do ;  and,  by  chance,  as  men  say,  this  sick  woman 
crosses  his  path  and  detains  him  a  moment;  for 
it  is  only  sickness,  or  sorrow,  or  death,  that  either 
detain  him  or  hasten  him  on.  In  his  blessed  path 
as  the  healer,  he  is  ever  willing  to  be  arrested  by 
the  sons  of  men;  counting  this  no  detention,  no 
trouble,  no  hindrance,  but  the  true  fulfilment  of  his 
heavenly  mission.  Opportunities  such  as  these 
were  welcome  to  him;  nor  was  he  at  any  time 
too  busy,  too  much  in  haste,  to  take  up  the  case  of 
the  needy,  however  suddenly  brought  before  him. 
To  him  no  interruption  was  unwelcome  which  ap- 
pealed to  his  love  or  power.  These  by-errands  of 
the  Son  of  Man  were  often  his  most  blessed  ones, 
as  at  Nain,  and  Jacob's  well,  and  the  sycamore  of 
Jericho.  I  know  not  whether  we  prize  our  own 
by-errands  sufficiently,  our  "accidental"  opportu- 
nities of  working  or  speaking  for  God.  We  like 
to  plan,  and  to  carry  out  our  plans  to  the  end ;  and 
we  do  not  quite  like  interruptions  or  detentions. 
Yet  these  may  be,  after  all,  our  real  work.  Little 
can  we  guess,  when  forming  our  plans  for  the  day, 
on  what  errands  God  may  send  us ;  and  as  little 
can  we  foresee,  when  setting  out  even  on  the 
shortest  journey,  xhcit  cpport'ii dty  may  cross  our 
path,  of  serving  the  Master,  and  blessing  our  fellow- 
men.  Whitefield,  on  his  way  to  Glasgow,  is  drawn 
aside  unexpectedly  to  tarry  a  night  in  the  house  of 
strangers.  To  that  family  he  brings  salvation.  A 
minister  of  Christ  misses  the  train  which  was  to 


CHRIST  THE  HEALER.  81 

convey  him  to  his  destination.  He  frets  a  little, 
but  sets  out  to  walk  the  ten  miles  as  best  he  may. 
He  is  picked  up  by  a  kind  stranger  in  a  carriage, 
a  man  of  the  world,  who  has  not  been  in  the  house 
of  God  for  years.  He  speaks  a  word,  gives  a  book, 
thanks  the  stranger  in  the  Master's  name  for  his 
kindness,  and  joys  to  learn  some  years  after  that 
he  missed  the  train  in  order  to  be  the  messenger 
of  eternal  life  to  a  heedless  sinner. 

II.  The  occasion  of  their  being  brought  together. — 
It  is  the  incurability  of  the  woman's  ailment  by 
earthly  skill  that  throws  her  upon  the  heavenly 
physician.  Man  has  done  his  utmost  for  twelve 
years,  but  has  failed.  She  gets  worse,  not  better. 
But  man's  failure  brings  her  to  one  who  cannot 
fail.  Man's  helplessness  shuts  her  up  to  help  that 
is  almighty  ;  and  sends  her  to  one  who  can  do 
exceeding  abundantly  above  all  she  asks  or  thinks. 
How  slow  are  we  to  turn  from  man  to  God !  Not 
twelve  years,  but  many  times  twelve  years  do  we 
continue  in  our  trouble,  trying  successive  remedies, 
— going  to  one  and  another  and  another  physician, 
crying,  Heal  me,  heal  me.  We  hew  out  cistern 
after  cistern  ;  and  still,  as  each  one  breaks,  we 
try  another.  We  go  the  round  of  vanity,  and 
pleasure,  and  sin,  endeavouring  to  fill  our  empty 
souls ;  and  turning  away  at  last  with  the  despairing 
cry,  "  Oh,  who  will  shew  us  any  good  ?"  But, 
like  the  prodigal,  we  begin  to  bethink  ourselves. 
u  There  is  bread  enough  in  our  Father's  house,"  we 


82  CHRIST  THE  HEALER. 

say; — Shall  we  not  arise  and  seek  it?  We  have 
tried  man,  shall  we  not  try  God  ?  We  have  gone 
to  earthly  wells,  shall  we  not  try  the  heavenly  ? 
Thus  earthly  disappointment  is  the  introduction  to 
heavenly  blessedness.  The  uselessness  of  human 
medicines  sends  us  to  the  balm  of  Gilead,  and  to 
the  physician  that  is  there.  Nor  does  he  reject  us 
because  we  have  tried  him  last,  and  because  we 
would  fain  have  done  without  him  if  we  could.  He 
welcomes  us  as  if  we  had  come  to  him  first ;  nor 
does  he  upbraid  us  with  our  delay.  Blessed  fail- 
ures, happy  disappointments,  that  thus  throw  men, 
with  their  poor  aching  hearts,  upon  the  loving-kind- 
ness of  the  Lord  ! 

III.  The  'point  of  connection  between  them. — It  is 
the  woman's  malady.  Incurability  is  the  occasion 
of  the  connection  ;  but  the  point  or  link  of  connec- 
tion is  the  disease  itself.  Had  it  not  been  for  this, 
she  would  not  have  sought  the  Lord.  It  is  not  that 
which  is  whole  about  her,  but  that  which  is  diseased, 
that  draws  the  healer  to  the  sick  one,  and  the  sick 
one  to  the  healer.  So,  it  is  sin  that  is  our  point  of 
connection.  Not  our  good,  but  our  want  of  good, 
nay,  our  evil,  our  total  evil.  Our  death  and  his 
life ;  our  weakness  and  his  strength ;  our  poverty 
and  his  riches; — these  are  the  things  that  meet 
and  clasp  each  other.  All  connection  with  the  So:i 
of  God  must  begin  with  our  sin;  for  he  came  not 
to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners,  to  repentance  ;  he 
receives  sinners;  he  saves  the  lost.    This  is  the  point 


CHRIST  THE  HEALER.  83 

in  dispute  between  the  Saviour  and  the  self-right- 
eous sinner.  This  is  the  truth  that  we  are  so  slow 
to  learn ;  yet  it  is  the  essence  of  the  gospel.  Did 
we  but  fully  know  and  act  upon  this,  how  differ- 
ently should  we  treat  the  Lord !  Distrust  and  dis- 
tance would  be  ended,  for  the  cause  of  these  would 
be  taken  out  of  the  way.  We  stand  aloof  from 
him  because  we  do  not  see  in  him  the  receiver  of 
sinners;  nor  thoroughly  recognise  either  his  ab- 
solute goodness  or  our  absolute  evil.  A  good 
thought,  a  fervent  feeling,  an  earnest  prayer,  a  sor- 
rowful tear ; — these  are  great  things  in  our  eyes  ; 
because  we  think  they  will  recommend  us  to  Him, 
and  form  so  many  points,  at  which  he  and  we  may 
come  into  contact  with  each  other.  Alas  for  our 
folly  and  unbelief:  and  alas  for  the  misery  and  the 
darkness  which  they  produce  !  We  will  not  trust 
him  for  his  own  grace  and  goodness;  we  must 
bribe  him  to  bless  us !  We  would  hide  the  evil  in 
us,  and  we  would  display  the  good,  in  order  to  in- 
duce him  to  take  us  into  favour.  But  it  is  not 
thus  that  he  receives.  It  is  with  sin  he  deals,  and 
we  must  bring  him  that.  It  is  with  disease  that 
he  deals,  and  we  must  bring  him  that.  If  we  re- 
fuse, there  can  be  no  meeting  between  Him  and 
us,  till  we  meet  before  the  throne. 

IV.  The  woman  s  need  of  Christ. — Hers  had  been 
a  sore  and  long  sickness;  a  great  and  a  long  need. 
Yet  it  was  her  need  that  made  her  welcome. 
Blessed  need  that  makes  us  welcome  to  the  Lord ! 


84  CHRIST  THE  HEALER. 

As  with  the  woman,  so  with  us.  We  need  Christ ! 
And  what  an  amount  of  need  is  implied  in  this  !  A 
man  that  needs  an  hundred  pounds  is  needy ;  but 
the  man  who  needs  ten  thousand  is  far  more  so. 
That  we  need  Christ, — nothing  less  than  Christ, 
yet  nothing  more, — is  the  most  appalling,  yet  also 
the  most  comforting  announcement  of  a  sinner's 
state  that  could  be  made.  Nothing  could  be  said 
more  fitted  to  awaken,  to  alarm,  to  humble,  than 
this, — you  need  Christ.  Such  is  the  nature  and  the 
extent  of  your  need,  that  less  than  the  Incarnate 
Son  and  his  fulness  cannot  avail  you.  We  need 
Christ  !  This  is  the  reason  for  our  coming  to  him, 
and  for  his  receiving  us.  We  go  to  him,  we  deal 
with  him,  we  make  our  case  known  to  him, — he- 
cause  we  need  him.  It  may  be  our  sense  of  sin  or 
our  want  of  a  sense  of  sin ;  it  may  be  our  igno- 
rance, our  stupidity,  our  insensibility,  our  conscious 
absence  of  all  goodness ; — it  matters  not.  Only  let 
these  bring  us  at  once  and  directly  to  himself. 
The  emptiness  is  ours  ;  but  the  fulness  is  his  ; 
infinite  fulness  dispensed  by  infinite  love. 

V.  Christ's  need  of  the  Woman. — Does  it  sound 
strange  to  say  that  Christ  needed  the  woman  ? 
It  is  true  ;  and  as  blessed  as  it  is  true.  The 
speaker  needs  his  audience  as  truly  as  the  audience 
needs  the  speaker.  The  physician  needs  the  sick 
man  as  truly  as  the  sick  man  the  physician.  The 
sun  needs  the  earth  as  truly  as  the  earth  needs  the 
sun.     You  may  say,  what  would  the  earth  be  with- 


CHRIST  THE  HEALER.  85 

out  the  sun  ?  '  Yes ;  but  what  would  the  sun  be 
without  an  earth  to  shine  upon  ?  What  would 
become  of  its  radiance  ?  All  wasted.  It  would 
shine  in  vain.  So  Christ  needed  objects  for  the 
exercise  of  his  skill,  and  love,  and  power.  His 
fulness  needed  emptiness  like  ours  to  draw  it  out : 
otherwise  it  would  have  been  pent  up  and  unem- 
ployed. He  is  glorified,  not  simply  in  the  possession 
of  fulness,  but  in  the  using  of  it.  If  it  remain  within 
himself,  he  is  unglorified,  and  the  Father  is  unglo- 
rified. He  needed  opportunities  for  drawing  out 
his  treasures.  He  needed  the  publican  as  truly 
(though  not  in  the  same  sense  and  way)  as  the 
publican  needed  him.  He  needed  Mary  Magdalene 
and  the  woman  of  Sychar,  and  Simon  the  leper,  and 
Lazarus  of  Bethany,  as  truly  as  they  needed  him. 
How  cheering  !  The  Lord  hath  need  of  us  !  He 
needs  guilty  ones  to  pardon  ;  he  needs  empty  ones 
to  fill ;  he  needs  poor  ones  to  enrich !  How 
precious  and  how  ample  is  the  gospel  contained  in 
this  blessed  truth  ! 

VI.  The  woman  s  thoughts  of  Christ.  —  Her 
thoughts  of  herself  are  poor.  She  is  modest  and 
diffident ;  unwilling  to  obtrude  herself  on  the  Mas- 
ter. She  is  in  earnest  about  her  cure  ;  but  she 
takes  the  quietest  way  of  obtaining  it.  Her  desire 
to  touch  his  garment  is  not  error  or  ignorance,  as  if 
supposing  that  some  virtue  lay  in  its  hem.  Nor  is 
her  wish  for  secresy,  unbelief,  but  simply  humility ; 
— humility,  accompanied  with  such  faith  in  him, 


86  CHRIST  THE  HEALER. 

that  she  feels  assured  that  a  touch  of  his  raiment 
will  suffice.  She  is  unwilling  to  detain  or  trouble 
him ;  and  she  has  such  high  thoughts  of  him  as  to 
convince  her  that  a  direct  appeal  is  not  needed. 
A  touch  will  do ;  one  touch  of  his  garment !  Thus 
she  thinks  within  herself,  in  the  simplicity  of  her 
happy  faith.  She  knows  his  fulness  is  infinite,  and 
that  simple  contact  with  him  in  any  form  will  draw 
it  out.  The  healing  virtue  in  him  is  irrepressible. 
Like  the  sun,  he  cannot  but  shine.  Like  the  garden, 
he  cannot  but  give  out  his  fragrance.  Only  let  her 
come  within  touch  of  his  raiment,  and  all  is  well. 

She  touched,  and  as  she  believed,  so  was  it  to 
her.     All  was  well. 

Let  such  be  our  thoughts  of  this  heavenly  healer. 
He  is  the  same  in  heaven  as  on  earth.  There  still 
goes  virtue  out  of  him  to  heal  the  sons  of  men. 
Let  us  do  justice  to  his  love  and  skill, — thinking 
no  evil  of  Him,  but  only  good.  The  simplest  form 
of  connection  with  him  will  accomplish  the  cure. 
Listening  to  his  voice, — that  will  do  it.  A  look  at 
his  countenance, — that  will  do  it.  A  clasp  of  his 
hand, — that  will  do  it.  A  touch  of  his  garment, 
even  of  its  hem, — that  will  do  it.  For  "  as  many 
as  touch  him  are  made  perfectly  whole." 


SERMON   XII. 

CHRIST     THE     CLEANSER. 

"  He  that  is  washed  needeth  not,  save  to  wash  his  feet,  but  is  clean 

every  whit." — John  xiii.  10. 

This  washing  of  the  disciples'  feet  was  one  of  the 
last  of  our  Lord's  acts  on  earth,  as  the  servant  of 
his  disciples,  the  servant  of  sinners.  How  fully 
did  that  towel,  and  that  basin,  shew  that  he  had 
u  taken  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,"  (Phil.  ii. 
7),  and  that  he  had  come  "not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  but  to  minister  ! '  This  last  act  of  lowly  love, 
is  the  filling  up  of  his  matchless  condescension ;  it 
is  so  simple,  so  kindly,  so  expressive ;  and  all  the 
more  so,  because  not  referring  to  positive  want, 
such  as  hunger,  or  thirst,  or  pain,  but  merely  to 
bodily  comfort.  Oh,  if  he  is  so  interested  in  our 
commonest  comforts,  such  as  the  washing  of  our 
feet,  what  must  he  be  in  our  spiritual  joys  and 
blessings  !  How  desirous  that  we  should  have 
peace  of  soul ;  and  how  willing  to  impart  it ! 

This  scene  of  condescending  love  is  no  mere 
show.  It  is  a  reality.  And  it  is  a  reality  for  us  to 
copy.  Love  to  the  saints  ;  love  shewing  itself  in 
simple  acts  of  quiet,  lowly  service  ;  service  pertain- 
ing to  common  comforts  ;  this  is  the  lesson  for  us, 
87 


88  CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER. 

which  the  divine  example  gives.  If  He  did  this, 
what  should  we  do  ?  "  If  I  your  Lord  and  Master 
have  washed  your  feet,  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one 
another's  feet." 

But,  in  the  midst  of  this  scene  and  its  lesson, 
there  suddenly  rises  up  a  spiritual  truth,  called 
forth  by  Peter's  remonstrance.  The  whole  trans- 
action is  transferred  into  a  type,  or  symbol,  by  the 
Lord  himself.  The  earthly  all  at  once  rises  into 
the  heavenly,  as  he  utters  these  words,  "  If  I  wash 
thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part  in  me."  It  is  as  if  he 
had  lighted  up  a  new  star  in  the  blue,  or  rather 
withdrawn  the  cloud  that  hid  a  star  already  kindled, 
but  hindered,  in  its  shining,  by  an  earthly  veil. 

Accepting,  then,  this  spiritual  truth  as  a  vital 
part  of  the  transaction,  let  us  study  its  full  mean- 
ing, as  thus  unveiled  to  us.  The  words  of  this 
tenth  verse  might  be  thus  translated,  or  at  least 
paraphrased : — "  He  that  has  bathed  (or  come  out 
of  the  bath)  needs  only,  after  that,  to  wash 
his  feet ;  the  rest  of  his  person  is  clean."  Here, 
then,  we  have  first  the  bathing ;  and,  secondly,  the 
washing. 

I.  The  Bathing. — The  reference  here  may  be  to 
"the  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness ; " 
in  which  we  are  "  washed  from  our  sins  in  his 
own  blood"  by  "Him  who  loved  us"  (Rev.  i.  5). 
The  bath  is  the  blood,  and  the  bathing  is  our 
believing.  From  the  moment  we  bathe,  that 
is,   believe,   we  are  personally  and   legally  clean 


CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER.  89 

in  God's  sight ;  our  "  bodies  are  washed  with 
pure  water'  (Heb.  x.  20).  We  may  accept  the 
reference  here,  as  being  either  to  the  temple,  or  to 
the  bath.  He  who  bathes,  say  in  the  morning,  is 
clean  for  the  whole  day.  Cur  believing  is  our  taking 
our  morning  bath.  That  cleanses  our  persons  ;  and 
during  all  the  rest  of  our  earthly  day  we  walk 
about,  as  men  forgiven  and  clean ;  who  know  that 
there  is  no  condemnation  for  them,  and  that  God 
has  removed  their  sins  from  them,  as  far  as  east  is 
from  the  west.  Connecting  the  washing  here  re- 
ferred to,  with  the  temple  service,  the  meaning 
would  be  this : — We  go  to  the  altar  and  get  the 
blood,  the  symbol  of  death,  sprinkled  upon  us,  im- 
plying that  we  have  died  the  death,  and  paid  the 
penalty,  in  him  who  died  for  us.  From  the  altar  we 
go  to  the  laver,  and  get  the  blood  washed  off  from 
our  persons,  proclaiming  that  we  are  risen  from  the 
dead,  and  therefore  in  all  respects  most  thoroughly 
clean, — "  clean  every  whit," — all  over  clean  in  our 
persons  before  God. 

This  is  the  bathing;  and  thus  it  is  that  we  are 
cleansed,  realising  David's  prayer,  " Purge  me  with 
hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean ;  wash  me,  and  I  shall 
be  whiter  than  the  snow."  When  I  believe  in 
Christ  as  the  fountain,  as  the  altar  and  the 
laver,  that  is,  when  I  receive  God's  testimony  con- 
cerning his  precious  blood,  I  am  washed.  I  become 
dean;  as  Christ  said  to  his  disciples,  "Now  are  ye 
clean  through  the  word  that  I  have  spoken  unto 
you."     When  I  believe  in  Christ  as  the  righteous- 


90  CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER. 

ness,  that  is,  when  I  receive  God's  testimony  con- 
cerning his  divine  righteousness,  I  am  straightway 
righteous.  When  I  receive  him  as  the  life,  1  have 
life.  When  I  receive  him  as  Redeemer,  I  am  re- 
deemed. When  I  receive  him  as  the  sinner's  surety, 
I  am  pardoned ;  there  is  no  condemnation  for  me. 
When  I  receive  him  as  the  dead  and  risen  Christ, 
I  die  and  rise  again. 

Such  are  the  results  of  this  divine  bathing. 
They  are  present  and  immediate  results.  They 
spring  straight  from  that  oneness  with  him  in  all 
things  into  which  my  believing  brings  me.  As  a 
believing  man,  I  enter  upon  his  fulness ;  I  become 
partaker  of  his  riches  ;  and  so  identified  with  him- 
self, that  his  cleanness  is  accounted  my  cleanness, 
his  excellence  my  excellence,  his  perfection  my 
perfection.  As  he  was  the  Lamb  without  blemish, 
and  without  spot,  so  I  am  "  clean  every  whit;"  and 
to  me,  as  part  of  the  cleansed  Bride,  the  Lamb's 
wife,  it  is  said,  "  Thou  art  all  fair,  my  love ;  there  is 
no  spot  in  thee." 

II.  The  Washing. — This  is  something  different 
from  the  bathing,  and  yet  there  is  a  likeness  be- 
tween the  two  things.  Both  refer  to  forgiveness  ; 
or  rather,  we  should  say,  that  the  first  refers  to 
personal  acceptance,  the  latter  to  the  daily  forgive- 
ness of  the  accepted  one.  The  washing  is  not  that 
of  the  person,  but  of  the  person's  feet, — those  parts 
which  come  constantly  into  contact  with  the  soil 
and  dust  of  the  earth.     Considered  personally,  and 


CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER.  91 

as  a  whole,  lie  is  far  above  the  earth,  and  beyond 
its  pollutions  ;  for  he  is  with  Christ  in  heavenly 
places  ;  but,  considered  in  parts,  his  feet  may  be 
said  to  be  still  upon  the  earth.  In  one  sense  he  is 
"  clean  every  whit,"  seated  with  Christ  in  heaven ; 
in  another,  he  is  still  a  sinner,  walking  the  earth, 
and  getting  his  feet  constantly  soiled  with  its  dust, 
or  "thick  clay."  Our  Lord  here  speaks  of  the 
washing  in  reference  to  this  latter  condition  ;  and 
contrasts  the  continual  washing  with  the  one  bath- 
ing; the  daily  pardons,  upon  confession,  with  the 
one  acceptance,  in  believing  ;  an  acceptance  with 
which  nothing  can  interfere.  With  the  sense  of 
acceptance,  we  may  say  that  many  things  can 
and  do  interfere;  but  with  the  acceptance  itself, 
nothing  can,  either  within  or  without,  either  in 
heaven  or  on  earth. 

The  person  who  is  bathed,  is  exposed  after  com- 
ing from  the  bath  to  constant  soiling  of  his  feet ; 
but  that  is  all.  His  person  remains  clean.  The 
priest  who  has  washed  at  the  laver,  is  constantly 
getting  his  feet  soiled  with  the  dust  of  the  temple 
pavement,  or  with  the  clotted  blood  which  ad- 
heres to  it.  But  this  does  not  affect  his  person. 
That  remains  clean.  So  is  it  with  the  believing 
man.  Personally  accepted,  and  delivered  from 
condemnation,  he  is  every  moment  contracting 
some  new  stain,  some  defilement  which  needs 
washing.  But  this  defilement  does  not  affect  his 
personal  forgiveness,  and  ought  not  to  lead  him 
into  doubt  as  to  his  acceptance.     He  himself  is 


92  CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER. 

clean,  through  his  reception  of  the  word  spoken  to 
him  by  his  Lord  and  Master  ;  and  he  goes  about 
the  removal  of  his  ever-recurring  sins,  as  one  who 
knows  this.  He  betakes  himself  to  Christ  for  the 
hourly  removal  of  his  sins,  as  one  who  has  tasted 
that  the  Lord  is  gracious  ;  he  comes  for  the  wash- 
ing of  his  feet  to  him  who  has  already  bathed  his 
person. 

It 'is  this  distinction  between  the  "bathing"  and 
the  "  washing "  that  meets  the  difficulty  felt  by 
some,  as  to  a  believer  constantly  seeking  pardon. 
He  that  has  bathed  needeth  not  save  to  wash  his 
feet ;  but  still  he  does  need  to  have  these  washed. 
He  that  has  been  accepted  in  the  beloved,  has  not 
daily  to  go  and  plead  for  acceptance,  nor  to  do  or 
say  anything  which  implies  that  the  condemnation, 
from  which  he  has  been  delivered,  has  returned  ; 
but  he  has  to  mourn  over,  to  confess,  to  seek  for- 
giveness for  daily  sins.  The  two  states  are  quite 
distinct,  yet  quite  consistent  with  each  other.  The 
complete  acceptance  of  the  believing  man  does  not 
prevent  his  sinning,  nor  do  away  with  the  constant 
need  of  new  pardons  for  his  sins  ;  and  the  re- 
currence of  sin  does  not  cancel  his  acceptance,  nor 
is  the  obtaining  of  new  pardons  at  variance  with 
his  standing  as  a  forgiven  man. 

It  is  this  distinction  which  answers  a  question 
often  raised,  "Are  all  our  sins,  future  as  well  as 
past,  forgiven  the  moment  we  believe  ? '  In  one 
sense  they  are ;  for  from  the  time  of  our  believing, 
we  are  treated  by  God  as   forgiven  men,  and  no- 


CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER.  93 

thing  can  interfere  with  this.  But  in  another  they 
are  not ;  for,  strictly  speaking,  no  sin  can  be 
actually  forgiven  till  it  exists,  just  as  no  one  can 
be  raised  up  till  he  actually  fall,  and  as  we  cannot 
wash  off  the  soil  from  our  feet  until  it  is  on  them. 
That  God  should  treat  his  saints  as  forgiven  ones, 
and  yet  that  he  should  be  constantly  forgiving, 
are  two  things  quite  compatible, — and  the  "  bath- 
ing and  washing  "  of  our  text,  furnish  an  excellent 
illustration  of  their  consistency.  All  such  questions 
have  two  sides,  a  divine  and  a  human  one.  The 
mixing  up  of  these  two,  or  the  ascribing  to  the  one 
what  belongs  to  the  other,  confuses  and  perplexes. 
The  keeping  of  them  separate  makes  all  clear. 
With  the  divine  side  God  has  to  do,  with  the  human 
we  have  to  do.  Eternal  forgiveness  is  God's  purpose : 
daily  forgiveness  is  our  enjoyment  and  privilege. 

We  are  apt  to  get  into  confusion  here,  and  to 
feel  as  if  our  daily  sins  did  interfere  with  our  ac- 
ceptance, and  ought,  for  the  time,  to  destroy  our 
consciousness,  or  assurance  of  acceptance.  Our 
Lord's  words  here  clear  up  this  difficulty,  and 
rectify  this  mistake.  "He  that  hath  bathed  needeth 
not,  save  to  wash  his  feet."  Our  state  of  (C  no 
condemnation,"  is  one  which  our  daily  sins  cannot 
touch.  These  sins  need  constant  washing;  but 
that  does  not  affect  the  great  truth  of  our  personal 
cleanness  in  the  sight  of  God,  our  having  found 
grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord.  To  suppose  that  it 
could  do  so,  would  be  to  misunderstand  our  Lord's 
distinction  between  the  bathing  and  the  washing. 


94  CHRIST  THE  CLEANSER. 

Let  us  learn,  then,  how  to  deal  with  our  daily 
sins,  in  consistency  with  this  distinction.  Suppose 
I  sin, — suppose  I  get  angry ;  shall  I  conclude  that 
I  have  never  been  accepted,  or  that  this  sin  has 
thrown  me  out  of  acceptance  ?  No  ;  but  holding 
fast  my  acceptance,  go  and  confess  my  anger  to  the 
Master.  Suppose  I  allow  the  world  to  come  in,  and 
perhaps  for  days  I  become  cold,  and  prayerless  ; 
shall  I  say,  Ah,  I  have  never  been  a  forgiven  man  ? 
or,  This  has  broken  up  the  reconciliation  ?  No  ; 
but,  undisturbed  in  my  consciousness  of  pardon 
and  reconciliation,  I  simply  take  my  worldliness, 
my  coldness,  my  prayerlessness  to  God ;  I  go  and 
wash  my  feet  as  often  as  they  need  it,  and  that  is 
every  moment ;  but,  in  doing  so,- 1  never  lose  sight 
of  the  blessed  fact,  that  I  have  bathed,  and  that  as 
nothing  can  alter  this  fact,  so  nothing  can  in- 
validate its  effects.  It  abides  unchanged.  Once 
bathed,  then  bathed  for  ever  ! 

Shall  we  sin,  then,  because  grace  abounds  ?  Shall 
we  soil  our  feet  because  our  cleansing  has  been  so 
perfect,  and  because  the  washing  is  so  easy  ?  No. 
How  shall  we  who  are  dead  to  sin,  live  any  longer 
therein  ?  So  far  from  being  now  in  a  more  favour- 
able position  for  committing  sin,  we  are  placed 
in  one  which,  of  all  others,  is  the  most  effectual 
for  delivering  us  from  it.  The  conscious  complete- 
ness of  the  pardon  is  God's  preservative  from  sin  ; 
and  it  is  the  best,  the  most  effectual.  There  is 
none  like  it.  It  is  the  source  of  our  power  against 
sin,  and  for  holiness.     Without  this,  progress  in 


CI  RIST  THE  CLEANSER.  95 

goodness,  freedom  in  service,  and  success  in  labour 
are  all  impossible. 

The  bathing  and  the  washing  are,  both  of  them, 
God's  protests  against  sin  ;  and,  if  understood 
aright,  would  be  our  most  effectual  safeguards. 
They  come  to  us  like  Christ's  words  to  the 
woman,  "  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee  ;  go  and  sin 
no  more."  And  what  more  likely  to  deepen  our 
hatred  of  sin,  than  this  necessary  intercourse  with 
our  holy  Master,  in  the  reception  of  constant 
forgivenesses  from  his  priestly  hands.  The  more 
that  we  have  to  do  with  Him,  the  more  are  we 
sure  to  become  like  him  ;  nor  is  anything  more 
fitted  to  make  us  ashamed  of  our  sins,  than  our  be- 
ing compelled  to  bring  them  constantly,  and  to  bring 
them  all,  small  and  great,  for  pardon  to  Himself. 

It  is  thus  that  the  Highest  stoops  to  the  lowest, 
and  discharges  toward  them  the  offices  of  happy 
affection  and  considerate  sympathy  in  the  most 
menial  things  of  life.  Shall  we  not  imitate  his  love, 
and  by  our  daily  acts  of  kindly  service  to  our  fellow- 
saints,  knit  together  the  members  of  the  blessed 
household  ?  However  great  in  rank,  or  riches,  or 
learning,  shall  we  not  stoop  ?  "  High  in  high  places, 
gentle  in  our  own."  Shall  we  not  thus  win  love  ? 
Not  so  much  to  ourselves,  as  to  the  beloved  One  ; 
shewing  his  meekness  in  ours,  his  gentleness  in 
ours,  his  lowliness  in  ours,  his  patience  in  ours  ;  thus 
melting  hearts  that  would  not  otherwise  be  melted, 
and  winning  affections  that  would  not  otherwise 
be  won.     "For  as  He  is,  so  are  we  in  this  world." 


SERMON  XIII. 

THE    SURETY'S    BAPTISM. 

"  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ;  and  how  am  I  straitened 
till  it  be  accomplished!" — Luke  xii.  50. 

Messiah  was  announced,  by  the  prophets,  as  King 
of  Peace  and  King  of  Righteousness.  He  was  to 
be  Solomon  and  Melchisedec  in  one  ;  the  great 
antitype  of  both.  He  was  to  conquer  and  cast  out 
him  who  had  brought  in  all  the  discord  ;  to  restore 
unity  and  order  to  a  broken  and  dismembered 
world.  He  was  to  reconcile  the  various  parts  of 
creation,  so  that  not  only  were  God  and  man, 
heaven  and  earth,  to  be  at  one,  but  even  the 
lower  races  of  creation  were  to  have  their  vari- 
ances removed,  and  the  lion  and  the  ox,  the  wolf 
and  the  lamb,  the  leopard  and  the  kid,  were  to 
dwell  together  in  peace.  Everything  connected 
with  his  person,  his  work,  his  word,  his  reign,  was 
peace.  His  was  to  be  the  "covenant  of  peace ;" 
his  name  was  to  be  the  "Prince  of  Peace;'  and  in 
his  days  there  was  to  be  "the  abundance  of  peace  " 
At  verse  51  there  is  an  apparent  denial  of  this  : 
"  Suppose  ye  that  I  am  come  to  give  peace  on  earth? 
I  tell  you,  Nay  ;  but  rather  division."  This,  how- 
ever, clearly  means  that  the  first  results  of  his  coin- 
96 


the  surety's  baptism.  97 

ing  were  hot  the  expected  ones  of  peace.  He  was 
indeed  coming  on  an  errand  of  peace  ;  but  there 
was  something  before  that, — something  introduc- 
tory  to  it,  yet  altogether  unlike  it.  Before  the 
light  there  must  come  the  darkness  ;  before  the 
still  small  voice  there  must  come  the  earthquake, 
the  whirlwind,  and  the  lightning.  So,  before  the 
peace  of  Messiah's  reign  there  must  come  fire,  and 
war,  and  division,  and  persecution,  and  the  sword. 
Before  Israel  is  planted  in  their  land,  to  enjoy  the 
abundance  of  Messiah's  peace,  there  must  come  the 
"tribulation  such  as  never  was  nor  shall  be." 

The  fire  spoken  of  in  the  49th  verse  is  not  the 
fire  of  Pentecost,  nor  the  symbol  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  nor  the  figure  of  purification.  It  is  mani- 
festly the  fire  of  vengeance,  so  frequently  referred 
to  by  the  prophets  as  the  precursor  of  Messiah's 
coming  and  reign.  Ps.  1.  3,  "  Our  God  shall  come, 
and  shall  not  keep  silence  ;  a  fire  shall  devour  be- 
fore him."  Ps.  xcvii.  3,  "  A  fire  goeth  before  him, 
and  burnetii  up  his  enemies  round  about."  Isa.  ix. 
5,  "  This  (the  last  battle)  shall  be  with  burning  and 
fuel  of  fire."  Isa.  x.  17,  "And  the  light  of  Israel 
shall  be  for  a  fire,  and  his  holy  one  for  a  flame." 
Isa.  lxvi.  15,  "  Behold,  the  Lord  will  come  with 
fire,  to  render  his  anger  with  fury,  and  his  rebuke 
with  flames  of  fire  ;  for  by  fire,  and  by  his  sword 
(his  "  flaming  sword,"  Gen.  hi.  24),  will  the  Lord 
plead  with  all  flesh."  So  John  the  Baptist  an- 
nounced Christ  as  the  Avenger  who  was  to  "burn 
up  the  chaff  with  unquenchable  fire"  (Matt.  hi.  12). 


98  the  surety's  baptism. 

So  Paul  proclaims  him  as  to  come  "  with  flaming 
fire,  taking  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not 
God."  So  do  Peter  and  Jude,  and  John  in  the 
Kevelation.  It  is  fire  that  is  so  specially  and  so 
awfully  associated  with  Messiah  and  his  day. 

Of  this  fire  the  Lord  here  speaks,  adding,  "  What 
will  I  if  it  be  already  kindled  ?" — meaning,  "Would 
that  that  day  were  come, — that  day  which  is  to 
bring  glory  to  me  and  my  people, — to  purge  the 
earth  from  sin,  and  make  all  things  new.  It  is 
not  for  its  own  sake,  or  for  the  destruction  which 
it  brings,  that  he  longs  for  the  fire,  but  for  the 
glorious  results  that  are  to  follow. 

He  then  announces  himself  as  the  brinsjer  of 
fire,  the  kindler  of  that  terrible  flame  in  which 
creation  is  to  be  wrapped,  when  the  wicked  are 
consumed,  and  when  the  alloy  of  the  ancient  curse 
is  to  be  burned  out  of  it  for  ever.  "  I  am  come  to 
send  fire  on  the  earth."  He  tells  also  with  equal 
distinctness  his  desire  for  the  arrival  of  that  awful 
day.  Not  that  he  loves  the  night ;  but  it  is  the 
herald  of  the  morn.  Not  that  he  desires  the  day 
of  wrath ;  but  it  is  the  introduction  of  the  day  of 
everlasting  peace. 

Having  thus  adverted  to  his  second  coming  and 
the  woes  then  awaiting  the  world,  he  turns  to  his 
first  coming,  and  the  woes  about  to  come  upon  him- 
self. The  world's  baptism  of  fire  was  certainly  to 
come,  but  his  own  baptism  of  fire  must  come  first. 
"I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with."  The  fire  that 
is  to  burn  up  his  enemies  and  purge  creation  must 


the  surety's  baptism.  99 

first  descend  on  him,  for  he  is  the  great  demonstra- 
tion to  the  universe  that  "  our  God  is  a  consuming 
fire."  The  sword  that  is  to  go  through  the  world 
must  first  awake  against  the  Man  that  is  Jehovah's 
fellow.  The  cup  of  trembling  that  is  to  go  round 
the  nations  must  first  be  given  into  His  hands.  In 
the  sorrow,  and  the  wrath,  and  the  death,  that  are 
to  visit  this  evil  world,  He  must  first  have  his  bitter 
share.  0  dreadful  baptism  of  the  Son  of  God  !  a 
baptism  which  the  sons  of  Zebedee  vainly  thought 
they  could  partake  of  along  with  him  ;  a  baptism 
which  neither  man  nor  angel  could  endure  ;  a  bap- 
tism whose  shower  of  infinite  wrath  was  too  fiery, 
too  resistless,  too  overwhelming,  to  be  borne  by 
any,  save  one  who  was  superhuman,  superangelic, — 
truly  divine  ;  for  who  but  God  can  bear  the  wrath 
of  God,  and  not  be  totally  consumed  ? 

The  baptism  of  the  Son  of  God,  here  spoken  of 
by  himself,  was  the  baptism  of  wrath  ;  for  he  who 
was  made  sin  for  us  must  be  baptized  with  this  bap- 
tism. Because  of  this  he  cried  out  in  his  anguish, 
"  Thy  wrath  lieth  hard  upon  me ;  thou  hast  afflicted 
me  with  all  thy  waves  ;"  "  Thy  fierce  wrath  (or 
'burnings/  Ps.  lxxxviii.  16,  Heb.  xii.  29)  goeth  over 
me."  It  was  thus  that  the  shower,  which  should 
have  expended  itself  on  us,  exhausted  itself  on  him. 
It  was  thus  that  righteousness  made  way  for  grace, 
and,  satisfying  itself  upon  the  Surety  instead  of  the 
sinner,  proclaimed  righteous  pardon  to  the  con- 
demned, and  righteous  liberty  to  the  captive.  For 
the  Son  of  God  there  was  the  baptism  of  fire,  in 


100  THE  SURETY'S  BAPTISM. 

order  that  for  us  there  might  be  the  baptism  of  grace 
and  peace. 

It  is  the  knowledge  of  this  fiery  baptism  of  our 
divine  Surety  that  gives  to  us  the  reconciliation 
and  the  peace  which,  as  sinners,  we  need.  The 
more  thoroughly  that  we  know  that  baptism,  and 
enter  into  its  gracious  meaning,  the  more  do  we 
realise  the  reconciliation  of  the  covenant,  and  feel 
assured  that  there  is  no  condemnation  for  us.  The 
knowledge  of  his  condemnation  becomes  thus  the 
assurance  of  our  own  forgiveness,  and  the  discern- 
ment of  the  wrath  that  has  come  down  on  him,  con- 
veys to  us  abiding  and  unchanging  peace  ;  because 
it  is  wrath  which  has  wholly  and  for  ever  passed 
away  from  us. 

It  was  of  this  fiery  baptism  that  He  himself  spoke 
when  he  said,  u  Now  is  my  soul  troubled."  Of  this 
he  spoke  more  fully  in  Gethsemane,  when  his  sweat 
was  as  it  were  great  drops  of  blood  falling  down  to 
the  ground.  Of  this  he  spoke  upon  the  cross,  when 
he  cried  out,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou 
forsaken  me  ?"  Of  this  he  spoke  in  the  Supper, 
when  he  said,  "  This  is  my  body  broken  for  you. 
....  This  cup  is  the  New  Testament  in  my 
blood,  shed  for  many,  for  the  remission  of  sins." 
It  is  of  this  fiery  baptism  of  wrath,  under  which  he 
died,  that  our  own  baptism  is  the  memorial ;  for  it 
is  called  "  baptism  into  death,"  and  we  are  said  to 
be  "baptized  into  his  death,"  as  if  we  in  baptism 
were  so  identifying  ourselves  with  him,  as  to  be 
baptized  with  the  baptism  wherewith  he  was  bap- 


THE  SURETY'S  BAPTISM.  101 

tized,  and  to  be  brought  under  the  same  descending 
flood  of  divine  wrath  as  came  down  on  him. 

This  baptism  the  Son  of  God  must  undergo ;  and 
he  knew  this.  It  was  appointed  him  of  the  Father, 
and  arranged  in  the  eternal  covenant.  "  I  have  a  bap- 
tism to  be  baptized  with."  He  knew  it;  he  knew  the 
reason  of  it;  he  knew  the  result  of  it;  and  he  knew 
that  it  could  not  pass  away  from  him.  He  had  come 
to  fulfil  all  righteousness ;  he  had  come  to  be  made  a 
curse  for  us.  As  the  fulfiller  of  the  Father's  will  he 
must  undergo  the  appointed  baptism.  As  the  Re- 
deemer of  the  captive,  the  Substitute  for  the  sinner, 
the  Man  who  "pleased  not  himself/'  he  must  undergo 
it.  It  was  his  lot,  his  divinely  ordained  lot.  He 
knew  it,  and  he  went  on  to  meet  it.  "I  have  a 
baptism  to  be  baptized  with."  He  saw  Gethsemane 
in  his  path,  but  he  turned  not  aside.  He  saw  Gol- 
gotha before  him,  but  on  he  went,  straight  to  the 
agony  of  its  cross  and  death.  To  do  the  will  of 
Him  who  sent  him,  and  to  finish  his  work,  at  what- 
ever cost, — this  was  his  desire. 

But  still  he  felt,  in  regard  to  that  awful  baptism, 
the  human  sensitiveness  and  shrinking  which  made 
him  in  Gethsemane  cry,  "  If  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from  me."  "  How  am  I  straitened,"  he 
says,  "  till  it  be  accomplished  !" 


r 


SEKMON   XIV. 

THE    SURETY'S    BAPTISM. 

"  I  have  a  baptism  to  be  baptized  with  ;  and  how  am  I  straitened  till 
it  be  accomplished  !;' — Luke  xii.  50 

In  this  awful  utterance  of  our  Substitute,  as  he 
looked  forward  to  the  cross,  we  have, — 

1.  A  longing  for  the  baptism.  He  desired  its  ac- 
complishment. He  knew  the  results  depending  on 
it,  and  these  were  so  divinely  glorious,  so  eternally 
blessed,  that  he  could  not  but  long  for  it, — he  could 
not  but  be  straitened  till  it  was  accomplished.  The 
cup  was  inexpressibly  bitter,  but  the  recompence 
for  drinking  it  was  so  vast,  that  he  could  not  but 
long  for  the  hour  when  it  should  be  put  into  his 
hands.  Just  as  he  said  at  another  time,  "With 
desire  have  I  desired  to  eat  this  passover  with  you 
before  I  suffer;"  so  here  he  says,  "I  have  a  baptism 
to  be  baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it 
be  accomplished  !" 

2.  The  consciousness  of  fear  and  bitter  anguish  in 
contemplating  it.  He  was  truly  man,  both  in  body 
and  soul.  As  man  he  shrunk  from  pain,  he  was 
weighed  down  with  burdens,  he  was  subject  to  sor- 
row ;  he  looked  on  death  as  his  enemy,  and  he 
made  supplication  with  strong   crying  and    tears 

102 


THE  SURETY'S  BAITISM.  103 

unto  him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death. 
His  utterances  in  the  Psalms  are  the  fullest  inti- 
mation of  his  feelings  in  these  respects.  Thus  lie 
cries,  "  Rescue  my  soul  from  their  destructions,  my 
darling  from  the  lions  ;"  "  0  Lord,  rebuke  me  not 
in  thy  wrath,  neither  chasten  me  in  thy  hot  dis- 
pleasure ;  for  thine  arrows  stick  fast  in  me,  and 
thy  hand  presseth  me  sore.  I  am  feeble  and  sore 
broken  :  I  have  roared  by  reason  of  the  disquiet- 
ness  of  my  heart."  .  .  "My  heart  is  sore  pained 
within  me,  and  the  terrors  of  death  are  fallen  upon 
me  :  fearfulness  and  trembling  are  come  upon  me, 
and  terror  hath  overwhelmed  me."  .  .  u  Save 
me,  0  God,  for  the  waters  are  come  in  unto  my 
soul ;  I  sink  in  deep  mire,  where  there  is  no  stand- 
ing ;  I  am  come  into  deep  waters,  where  the  floods 
overflow  me.  I  am  weary  of  my  crying ;  my  throat 
is  dried  :  mine  eyes  fail  while  I  wait  for  my  God." 
Such  are  the  utterances  of  his  human  soul  under 
the  pressure  of  its  infinite  sorrows.  He  did  not 
shake  off  the  burden,  yet  the  weight  was  intolerable. 
He  did  not  refuse  the  cup,  yet  its  gall  and  worm- 
wood were  such  as  to  wring  from  him  many  an 
awful  cry.  He  did  not  turn  back  from  the  anguish, 
or  the  darkness,  or  the  death,  yet  he  speaks  as  one 
overwhelmed  with  the  very  thought  of  them. 

If,  then,  his  humanity  was  thus  proved  to  be 
true  and  real,  altogether  like  oar  own,  in  every- 
thing save  sin,  how  true  and  real  must  have  been 
those  sorrows  which  thus  agonized  that  holy  yet 
true  humanity  !      His  burdens  were  all  real ;  his 


104  the  surety's  baptism. 

pangs  were  all  real ;  his  terrors  were  all  real,  as  were 
his  hunger  and  his  thirst.— real  as  was  his  death  upon 
the  Roman  cross,  or  his  burial  in  Joseph's  tomb. 
His  divine  nature  did  not  relieve  him  of  one  grief,. 
or  make  his  sufferings  mere  shadows.  It  fitted  him 
for  being  filled  with  more  sorrow  than  any  man 
could  be.  It  conferred  on  him  an  awful,  we  may 
say  a  divine,  capacity  of  endurance,  and  so  made 
him  the  subject  of  sharper  pain  and  pro  founder  grief 
than  otherwise  he  could  have  been.  So  far  from  his 
suffering  less  truly,  or  to  a  less  degree,  because  he 
was  the  Son  of  God,  he  was,  in  that  very  way,  made 
capable  of  an  amount  of  bodily  and  mental  agony 
of  which,  as  a  mere  man,  he  could  not  have  been 
susceptible. 

And  as  the  sorrow  was  thus  all  real, — increased, 
not  lessened  by  his  Godhead, — so  was  his  substitu- 
tion for  us  as  real.  "  Surely  he  hath  borne  our 
griefs,  and  carried  our  sorrows  ;  he  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniqui- 
ties." His  endurance  of  our  penalty  was  as  true  as 
was  his  partaking  of  our  sorrow.  It  was  "the  chas- 
tisement of  our  peace  that  was  on  him."  The  more 
that  we  contemplate  this  his  suffering,  his  baptism, 
the  more  will  the  whole  reality  of  his  sin-bearing 
work  appear.  He,  "his  own  self,  bare  our  sins,  in 
his  own  body,  on  the  tree." 

3.  The  straitening  in  regard  to  its  aceornplish- 
ment.  Like  Paul,  he  was  in  a  strait  between  things 
which  pressed  in  opposite  ways,  and  which  must 
continue  to  press  till  the  work  was  clone. 


the  surety's  baptism.  105 

(1.)  He  was  straitened  between  the  anticipated  pain, 
and  the  thought  of  the  result  of  that  pain .  How  fully 
was  this  feeling  brought  out  in  that  remarkable 
passage  recorded  by  the  Evangelist  John  (xii.  27), 
"Now  is  my  soul  troubled  ;  and  what  shall  I  say? 
Father,  save  me  from  this  hour  :  but  for  this  cause 
came  I  unto  this  hour.  Father,  glorify  thy  name." 
Here  was  the  straitening  expressed  in  our  text;  the 
same  straitening  that  we  find  again  in  the  scene  of 
the  garden  agony. 

(2.)  He  was  straitened  between  grace  and  righteous- 
ness. Till  the  great  sacrifice  was  offered,  there  might 
be  said  to  be  conflict  between  these  two  things.  The 
reconciliation  was  not  actually  accomplished  between 
them.  Mercy  and  truth  had  not  yet  met  together; 
righteousness  and  peace  had  not  yet  kissed  each 
other.  Between  his  love  to  the  sinner  and  his  love 
to  the  Father  there  was  conflict ;  between  his  desire 
to  save  the  former  and  his  zeal  to  glorify  the  latter 
there  was  something  wanting  to  produce  harmony. 
He  knew  that  this  something  was  at  hand,  that  his 
baptism  of  suffering  was  to  be  the  reconciliation  ; 
and  he  pressed  forward  to  the  cross,  as  one  that 
could  not  rest  till  the  discordance  were  removed, — 
as  one  straitened  in  spirit  till  the  great  reconcilia- 
tion should  be  effected.  "  I  have  a  baptism  to  be 
baptized  with,  and  how  am  I  straitened  till  it  be 
accomplished  !" 

Such  was  the  baptism  of  the  Son  of  God,  and 
such  the  straitening  of  spirit,  till  it  was  accom- 
plished.     It  Yv\as    infinite    suffering  to  which  He 


106  the  surety's  baptism. 

looked  forward  ;  suffering  from  which  his  soul 
would  naturally  shrink;  yet  he  could  not  rest,  till 
the  life- time's  endurance  had  been  completed,  and 
the  great  work  done.  He  pressed  forward  in  the. 
path  of  suffering,  nor  did  he  stay,  till  he  had 
reached  its  end.  The  spirit  was  willing,  though 
the  flesh  was  weak. 

And  now,  as  the  result  of  this  accomplished  bap- 
tism, we  have  forgiveness  and  salvation  proclaimed 
to  us.  He  has  finished  transgression,  made  an  end 
of  sin,  brought  in  everlasting  righteousness,  made 
reconciliation  for  iniquity.  No  second  baptism  like 
his  is  needed  now.  The  one  baptism  has  done  the 
work.  No  second  cross  requires  to  be  erected  on 
some  new  Golgotha.  His  one  cross  has  completed 
the  great  propitiation,  and  brought  redemption  to 
the  captive.  No  second  death  can  be  demanded 
now,  by  law  or  righteousness.  The  one  death  of 
the  Prince  of  Life  has  secured  for  us  the  everlast- 
ing life,  which  no  other  death  could  have  done.  The 
knowledge  of  this  one  baptism,  this  one  cross,  this 
one  death,  is  all  we  need  to  put  us  in  possession  of 
forgiveness  and  life,  of  righteousness  and  glory. 

What,  then,  remains  for  us  but  that  we  enter  into 
his  rest,  reaping  what  he  has  sown,  and  gathering 
fruit  from  the  vine  which  he  has  planted  ?  So 
complete  is  the  Father's  testimony  to  the  accom- 
plished baptism  of  his  Son,  the  finished  work  of 
the  Substitute,  that,  in  receiving  that  testimony,  we 
receive  the  full  measure  of  blessing  purchased  for 
us  by  that  baptism  and  death, 


THE  SURETY'S  BAPTISM.  ]07 

Nor  are  the  results  of  this  bloody  baptism  of  the 
Son  of  God  limited  or  temporary.  The  whole  earth 
is  yet  to  share  them.  The  eternal  ages  are  yet  to 
know  them.  There  come,  no  doubt,  first  the  sword, 
the  discord,  the  persecution,  and  the  fire.  All  these 
have  been  doing  their  work  on  earth,  and  shall  do 
so,  yet  for  a  little  season.  But  ere  long  the  sword 
shall  go  through  earth  for  the  last  time  ;  division 
shall  disturb  its  peace  for  the  last  time  ;  persecu- 
tion shall  seize  its  victims  for  the  last  time ;  the  fire 
shall  be  kindled  for  the  last  time.  And  then  shall 
come  the  peace,  and  the  love,  and  the  holiness. 
Then  shall  come  the  deliverance  of  creation,  the 
reign  of  peace,  the  kingdom  of  glory,  the  new  hea- 
vens and  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness. 
Then  shall  He  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and 
shall  be  satisfied.  Then  shall  He  reap  the  fruit  of 
his  awful  baptism.  That  baptism  will  not  then  seem 
too  bitter  or  too  terrible,  when  its  issue  shall  be  seen 
to  be  so  glorious  and  eternal.  Nor  will  the  time  then 
seem  to  have  been  too  long,  even  though  the  king- 
dom should  be  deferred  for  many  a  day ;  seeing  there 
is  to  be  so  infinite  a  compensation  for  the  sickness 
of  hope  deferred,  and  so  blessed  a  termination  of 
the  long,  long  ages  of  delay. 


SERMON    XV. 

THE    SURETY'S    SORROW. 
"  Now  is  my  soul  troubled." — John  xii.  27 

This  twenty-seventh  verse  connects  itself,  not  so 
much  with  the  three  previous  verses,  as  with  the 
twenty- third.  The  first  announcement  is,  "  The 
hour  is  come,  that  the  Son  of  Man  should  be  glori- 
fied;" the  second  is,  "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled." 

The  connection  between  these  two  statements 
does  not  seem  at  first  sight  very  plain.  The  second 
is  not  the  statement  we  should  have  expected  to 
follow  the  first.  Rather,  we  would  say,  it  should 
have  been  "Now  is  my  soul  glad,"  not  "troubled;" 
for  the  prospect  of  the  glorifying  ought  naturally 
to  call  up  joy,  not  sorrow.  We  feel  at  a  loss  to 
know  why  he  should  be  so  troubled,  when  arriving 
within  sight  of  the  glory. 

Was  earth  so  desirable  an  abode,  that  the  thought 
of  leaving  it  should  sadden  him  ?  Did  he  wish  to 
remain  among  sinners  and  enemies  ?  Did  he  pre- 
fer the  land  of  death,  and  curse,  and  woe,  and 
shame,  to  the  glorious  heaven  above,  to  the  society 
of  angels,  to  the  honour  of  the  throne  of  the  ma- 
jesty in  the  heavens  ?     That,  we  know,  could  not 

be.     He,  far  more  than  David  ever  did,  longed  for 
108 


THE  SURETY'S  SORROW.  100 

the  wings  of  the  dove  that  he  might  fly  away  and 
be  at  rest. 

Why,  then,  did  the  near  prospect  of  the  glory 
thus  overwhelm  him  with  sadness  ?  If  there  was 
nothing  in  the  glory  to  produce  this,  what  occa- 
sioned it  ?  It  was  evidently  no  common  sorrow ; 
it  was  something  new  and  terrible,  even  to  him 
whose  life  was  one  weighty  sorrow,  and  whose  ac- 
quaintanceship with  grief  was  of  thirty- three  years' 
standing.     "  Now  is  my  soul  troubled." 

In  bringing  out  the  import  of  our  Lord's  words 
here,  let  us  take  up  these  four  questions : — 

I.  What  was  the  trouble  of  his  soul  ? — As  it  could 
not  be  the  glory  itself,  it  must  have  been  some- 
thing either  on  this  or  on  the  other  side  of  it  ; 
something  which  lay  on  his  way  to  it,  or  was  to  be 
encountered  immediately  after  it.  It  could  not  be 
the  latter,  as  the  entrance  into  the  glory  was  the 
absolute  ending  of  every  thing  like  sorrow.  It 
must,  then,  have  been  something  which  lay  on  this 
side  of  it, — something  which  he  had  to  pass  through 
in  order  to  reach  it. 

There  were  three  things  which  occasioned  trouble 
to  Christ  when  here  ;  (I.)  The  sorrows  and  sins 
which  he  saw  on  earth  ;  (2.)  Sin  imputed  to  him  ; 
(3.)  The  wrath  of  God  on  account  of  this  imputed 
sin.  The  first  of  these  was  a  constant  source  of 
sorrow  to  the  compassionate  Saviour;  but  there 
was  nothing  in  the  present  scene  to  make  it  pecu- 
liarly so.     The  burden  of  sin,  and  the  wrath  of  God, 


110  the  surety's  sorrow. 

due  to  him  as  the  Sin-bearer,  were  also  continual 
sources  of  sorrow ;  and  increasingly  so,  as  the  great 
crisis  drew  nigh,  when  the  whole  load  of  that 
sin  and  wrath  was  to  press  upon  him  in  all  its  ter- 
ribleness.  The  sin  laid  upon  him  was  that  which 
he  infinitely  abhorred ;  need  we  wonder,  then,  that, 
as  it  pressed  more  and  more  upon  him,  his  soul 
should  be  troubled,  nay,  become  "  exceedingly  sor- 
rowful, even  unto  death  ?"  The  wrath  and  curse, 
due  to  this  sin  which  was  laid  upon  him,  was  that 
which  he  infinitely  shrunk  from  :  for,  as  the  Son  of 
the  Blessed,  he  could  not  but  be  troubled  at  being 
made  "  a  curse;"  and  as  the  object  of  the  Father's 
divine  complacency  and  love,  he  could  not  but  feel 
troubled  at  the  outpouring  of  the  Father's  wrath. 

Such  was  the  trouble  of  his  soul.  All  along 
these  things  had  been  felt,  and  they  had  made  him 
the  man  of  sorrows.  But  as  the  great  hour  drew 
on  when  the  Lamb  was  to  be  slain,  the  weight  of 
the  burden  increased, — till,  as  he  came  within  sight 
of  the  cross,  it  oppressed  him  so  fearfully,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  he  would  sink  under  it,  ere  he  reached 
his  destination.  Intense  was  this  trouble  of  his 
soul.  So  intense  must  have  been  his  hatred  of  sin, 
and  his  shrinking  from  the  Father's  wrath.  So 
intense  also  must  have  been  his  love  to  the  sinner, 
and  his  zeal  for  the  glory  of  the  Father. 

And  if  sin,  though  but  imputed,  was  so  hateful 
to  him,  what  ought  that  sin,  which  lives  in  us,  and 
pervades  our  whole  being,  to  be  to  us  ?  If  divine 
wrath,  though  brief  and  for  another's  sin,  and  with 


THE  SURETY'S  SORROW.  Ill 

all  heaven's  glory  beyond,  was  so  intolerable,  what 
will  that  wrath  be  to  the  lost  sinner,  which  is  for 
his  own  guilt,  and  which  will  therefore  burn  into 
his  innermost  conscience,  not  for  a  day  or  a  life- 
time, but  for  a  whole  eternity,  with  no  prospect  of 
cessation  or  diminution,  or  glory  beyond  it  all  ? 

II.  Why  was  he  thus  troubled  now,  and  nut  before. 
— In  a  certain  measure  he  was  always  troubled,  for 
he  was,  from  his  birth,  the  Sin  bearer;  but  as  he 
drew  nearer  the  crisis,  the  sorrow  increased,  and 
the  burden  grew  heavier.  He  realized  more  of  that 
awful  hour  when  the  whole  wrath  should  be  poured 
out  upon  him;  and  the  nearness  of  the  glory  re- 
minded him  of  the  greater  nearness  of  the  sorrow 
that  lay  on  this  side  of  it,  and  through  which  he 
must  pass,  in  order  to  reach  the  blessedness  beyond. 
The  very  vision  of  the  glory,  too,  would  serve  to 
enhance  and  augment  the  trouble,  as  the  dark  peaks 
of  Sinai  look  darker  and  more  terrible,  when  the 
sun  is  seen  going  down  behind  them,  and  by  his 
radiance  bringing  out  each  fierce  and  rugged  cliff 
in  full  relief  against  the  glowing  sky. 

Christ's  soul  was  thoroughly  human,  in  every- 
thing bat  sin;  and  hence  objects,  whether  of  joy 
or  sorrow,  affected  him  in  proportion  to  their  near- 
ness or  their  distance.  He  always  knew  that  the 
Father's  will  would  infallibly  be  accomplished ;  yet 
it  was  not  till  the  Seventy  returned  to  him  with 
joy,  saying,  "  Lord,  even  the  devils  are  subject  to 
us  through  thy  name"  (Luke  x.  21),  that  he  "re- 


112  THE  SURETY'S  SORROW. 

joiced  in  spirit."  He  knew  that  Lazarus  was  dead 
before  he  came  to  Bethany ;  yet  it  was  not  till  he 
stood  by  his  tomb  and  addressed  the  weeping  all 
around,  that  he  "  wept."  The  nearness  of  either,  or 
joy,  or  grief,  affected  him  as  it  affects  us.  Our  na- 
tures do  not  admit  of  our  feeling  them  as  much  when 
they  are  far  off  as  when  they  are  near.  So  was  it 
with  Him.  He  knew  the  sorrow  that  lav  before 
him,  and  doubtless  it  had  thrown  its  shadow  over 
him  long  ere  this ;  but  as  he  neared  it,  that  shadow 
grew  darker  and  darker,  till,  as  he  actually  came 
within  sigflit  of  the  cross,  his  soul  was  troubled. 

He  must  go  to  the  cross  with  the  full  knowledge 
of  what  he  is  to  suffer  there.  That  suffering  is  not 
to  overtake  him  unawares.  He  is  to  know,  before 
he  drinks  it,  the  bitterness  of  the  cup  which  the 
Father  hath  given  him  to  drink,  the  anguish  of 
that  baptism  with  which  he  is  to  be  baptized.  He 
must  see  the  sword  that  is  to  smite;  and  try  the 
sharpness  of  its  edge  before  it  awakes  against  him. 
He  must  have  a  foretaste  of  the  wrath  and  the 
curse,  of  death  and  of  the  grave,  that  he  may 
calmly  measure  them,  and  give  to  them  the  entire 
acquiescence  of  his  understanding  and  will.  It  was 
only  thus  that  he  could  offer  himself  up  as  a  free- 
will offering,  fully  cognisant  of,  and  acquiescent  in, 
all  that  was  to  be  inflicted  on  him  by  the  Father's 
justice.  It  was  needful  that  he  should  suffer  witt- 
ingly; and  in  order  to  do  so,  he  must  suffer  Icuow- 
iiicjhj;  the  blow  must  not  take  him  by  surprise  ;  he 
must  give  his  own  full  consent  to  all  that  he  was 


THE  SURETY'S  SORROW.  113 

to  endure ;  not  to  shut  his  eyes,  and  be  led,  as  it 
were,  blindfold  to  the  cross,  but  to  see  it  all,  know 
it  all,  consent  to  it  all :  and  then,  after  having  thus 
seen  and  known  and  consented,  go  forward  to  the 
place  of  sacrifice,  saying,  Not  my  will,  but  thine 
be  done. 

Twice  at  least  before  he  went  to  the  cross,  the 
Father  brought  the  cup  which  he  was  to  drink  of, 
and  placed  it  by  his  side,  that  he  might  look  into 
it,  and  measure  it  and  taste  it ;  once  at  the  time 
before  us,  and  again  in  Gethsemane,  when  his 
"  soul  was  exceeding  sorrowful  even  unto  death," 
and  his  "  sweat,  as  it  were,  great  drops  of  blood 
falling  down  to  the  ground."  In  both  of  these 
cases,  there  seems  to  be  the  same  meaning  and  the 
same  result.  In  both  of  them  the  Father  was 
bringing  the  cup  of  wrath,  and  setting  it  down  by 
his  side,  that  he  might  fully  know  what  he  was 
about  to  drink ;  that  having  examined  the  contents, 
and  tasted  some  of  the  infinitely  terrible  mixture, 
he  might  express  his  calm  determination  to  drink 
it  all,  in  that  day  when  it  should  be  put  into  his 
hands  for  this  end  ;  nay,  might  say,  before  heaven, 
and  earth,  and  hell,  holding  the  cup  which  he  had 
examined  up  to  view,  "  I  delight  to  do  thy  will,  0 
God  ;"  "  the  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me  to 
drink,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?" 

The  best  commentary  on  these  words  of  our 
text  are  those  Psalms  in  which  Christ  speaks  as 
the  Sin-bearer,  as  the  38th  or  40th,  or  69th  or  88th. 
In  them  we  find  Christ  examining  the  bitter  cup, 

H 


114  THE  SURETY'S  SORROW. 

and  trying  its  contents,  and  tasting  them  day  by 
day ;  and  though,  on  such  occasions  as  the  present, 
or  in  Gethsemane,  his  soul  was  specially  troubled, 
yet  often,  at  other  times  also,  was  he  made  to  feel 
the  sorrow  to  which  he  had  subjected  himself  for 
us.  Each  time  that  he  used  them  he  would  enter 
into  the  trouble  of  soul  which  they  express :  but  as 
the  consummation  drew  nearer,  he  would  enter 
more  deeply  into  that  trouble ;  and  at  each  succes- 
sive time  they  would  acquire  a  more  profound  and 
solemn  meaning.  With  us,  familiarity  with  sorrow, 
and  continual  repetition  of  its  bitterness,  would 
harden  and  produce  indifference.  With  Christ  it 
was  otherwise ;  for,  though  all  was  human,  yet  all 
was  perfection  in  him ;  and  each  time  these  Psalms 
were  read  by  him,  they  would  convey  a  deeper  and 
deeper  experience  of  the  awful  realities  which  they 
expressed.  For,  though  uttered  in  the  feeble  lan- 
guage of  man,  which  could  not  fully  enunciate  the 
great  things  of  God,  yet,  as  understood  and  inter- 
preted by  the  Son  of  God  according  to  his  perfect 
wisdom,  what  a  reality  would  these  cries  of  anguish 
convey  to  his  soul;  what  a  depth  of  meaning  would 
each  word  possess ! 

How  fully  did  the  Son  of  God  understand  the 
conflict  into  which  he  entered  for  us ;  measure  the 
weight  of  the  burden  which  he  bore  for  us ;  realise 
the  sin  which  was  laid  upon  him ;  take  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  wrath  which  was  to  be  poured  out  on 
him  for  us ;  and  examine  the  contents  of  the  cup 
which  he  was  to  drink  for  us! 


TUE  surety's  sorrow.  115 

III.  Why  did  not  his  divine  nature  ward  off  the 
trouble? — This  question  may  be  answered  by 
another,  Why  did  not  his  divine  nature  prevent  sin 
from  being  imputed  to  him  at  all  ?  If  his  Godhead 
did  not  do  the  one,  why  should  it  do  the  other  ? 
We  know  that  the  Godhead,  so  far  from  hindering 
the  imputation  of  sin,  wras  that  which  made  it  pos- 
sible for  sin  to  be  imputed  to  him.  Had  he  not 
been  divine,  there  could  have  been  no  imputation. 
If,  then,  his  Godhead  did  not  hinder,  but  help  the 
imputation  of  sin,  it  surely  would  not  hinder  the 
consequences  of  that  imputation.  If  the  imputa- 
tion was  real,  the  sufferings  must  be  real.  His 
Godhead  availed  not  to  diminish  or  neutralise  the 
sorrow,  but  to  give  to  that  sorrow  its  infinite  value 
and  sin-bearing  character.  The  union  of  the  divine 
nature  with  the  human  was,  not  to  interfere  with 
the  actings  of  the  human,  but  to  make  them  effica- 
cious; not  to  ward  off  suffering,  but  to  impart  to  it 
its  vicarious  potency;  not  to  make  the  cup  less 
bitter,  but  to  make  its  contents  healing  and  saving; 
not  to  save  the  victim  from  the  cross,  but  to  make 
crucifixion  atonement ;  not  to  ward  off  death,  but 
to  impart  to  that  death  the  character  of  an  infi- 
nitely precious  ransom ;  not  to  bar  the  grave 
against  the  entrance  of  the  misrhtv  victim,  but  to 
make  that  grave  the  womb  of  immortality  and  in- 
corruption,  the  cradle  of  the  church,  the  well- 
spring  of  resurrection- life  and  everlasting  glory. 

Besides,  think  what  is  meant  by  the  divine  na- 
ture warding  off  the  suffering  ?     If  it  mean  any- 


116  THE  SURETY'S  SORROW. 

thing  at  all,  it  must  mean  the  turning  of  that  suf- 
fering into  a  mere  form  or  pretext.  This,  we  are 
sure,  was  not  the  case.  Instead  of  making  the 
sufferings  less  real,  it  made  them  more  real.  The 
union  of  the  divine  with  the  human  nature  enabled 
the  latter  to  bear  more  suffering  than  it  otherwise 
could  have  clone ;  and  to  have  called  in  the  God- 
head in  order  to  ward  off  the  suffering,  would  have 
been  to  have  called  it  in  to  hinder  one  of  the  very 
results  contemplated  by  the  union.  The  payment 
of  the  penalty  was  the  suffering  and  the  death  of 
the  Christ ;  and  to  have  interfered  with  that  suffer- 
ing, or  with  that  death,  would  have  been  to  have 
hindered  the  payment  of  the  ransom.  Nay,  and 
even  when  the  human  nature  of  the  Lord  was  sink- 
ing under  the  pressure  of  the  sorrowr,  it  was  not 
the  Godhead  that  was  sent  to  mitigate  that  anguish, 
or  to  sustain  him  under  it;  it  was  an  angel, — 
"  there  appeared  an  angel  from  heaven  strengthen- 
ing him."  For  the  Godhead  to  have  interposed  to 
shield  Him  either  from  the  suffering  or  the  death, 
would  have  been  to  maim  his  work,  to  destroy  his 
substitution,  and  to  turn  the  payment  of  the  awful 
penalty  from  being  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  reali- 
ties into  a  mere  pretence. 

IV.  Why  did  not  the  joy  in  prospect  of  the  glory 
outweigh  and  neutralize  the  sorrow  ? — Here,  again, 
wre  must  remember  that  Christ's  humanity  was  per- 
fect ;  that  the  divine  was  not  mixed  up  with  the 
human,  nor  the  human  mixed  up  with  the  divine. 


THE  SURETY'S  SORROW.  117 

Each  acted  according  to  its  nature.  The  glory 
therefore,  however  great,  could  not  prevent  Christ's 
human  soul  being  acted  on  by  the  sorrow,  accord- 
ing to  its  greatness,  and  according  to  its  nearness. 
The  cause  of  the  sorrow  was  infinitely  great,  and 
the  sorrow  itself  was  at  hand,  therefore  it  was  im- 
possible for  human  nature  not  to  feel  profoundly 
that  which  was  so  great  and  so  near.  Had  the 
sorrow  been  like  our  sorrow,  then  the  difference 
between  it  and  the  glory  would  have  been  so  great 
as  to  have  made  him  call  it  a  "  light  affliction," 
not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  to  be 
revealed.  But  his  sorrow  was  not  like  ours.  It 
was  not  indeed  lasting;  but  it  was  unutterably 
vast ;  its  vastness  could  only  be  measured  by  the 
greatness  of  our  sins,  and  the  greatness  of  him  who 
was  bearing  them.  There  is  no  proportion  between 
our  suffering  and  our  glory,  any  more  than  there  is 
between  time  and  eternity ;  but  there  is  some  pro- 
portion between  Christ's  sufferings  and  Christ's 
glory ;  it  was,  if  one  may  so  speak,  the  proportion 
between  two  eternities,  two  infinities.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  with  such  an  infinity  of  suffering,  the 
glory  should  have  been  for  a  season  shut  out,  the 
human  nature  of  Christ  should  have  been  bowed 
clown  under  the  awful  load,  and  his  soul  made  ex- 
ceeding sorrowful  even  unto  death.  No  vision  of 
the  coming  glory  could  make  his  present  suffering 
less,  or  alter  the  necessity  for  his  bearing  it,  how- 
ever much  it  might  tend  to  sustain  him  under  it. 
The  sin  laid  on  him  was  still  the  sin,  the  wrath 


118  THE  SURETY'S  SORROW. 

was  still  the  wrath,  the  curse  was  still  the  curse ; 
and  all  these  were  infinitely  terrible,  to  one  who  so 
thoroughly  understood  them ;  nor  could  the  glory, 
however  bright,  lessen  that  terribleness,  or  miti- 
gate the  suffering  which  it  was  producing  in  the 
soul  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Oh,  if  his  trouble  of  soul  were  so  great,  what 
must  the  sin  be  which  produced  it  ?  Yet  what 
must  be  the  completeness  of  that  deliverance  from 
trouble,  which  is  the  portion  of  the  believing 
soul,  in  consequence  of  his  bearing  it  all  ?  Not  a 
pang  remains  for  us ;  not  a  drop  of  bitterness  is  left 
behind.     All  is  peace. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  what  must  be  the  wrath 
of  God  against  the  transgressor?  What  must  be 
the  torment  of  the  eternal  curse  which  the  lost  sin- 
ner is  to  bear  ?  And  what  must  be  that  hell,  that 
unending  and  unchanging  hell  of  woe  and  torment, 
in  reserve  for  those  who,  having  rejected  the  sin- 
bearing  of  the  divine  Substitute,  shall  be  compelled 
to  bear  the  penalty  of  their  guilt,  without  help, 
without  alleviation,  and  without  sympathy,  suffer- 
ing the  vengeance  of  eternal  fire  ! 


SERMON  XVI. 

THE    SURETY'S    THIRST. 
"  Jesus  saith,  I  thirst." — John  xix.  28. 

Three  things  need  our  notice  here  :  the  thirst,  the 
cry,  the  answer.  They  are  not  trifles,  nor  acci- 
dents, either  in  themselves  or  in  connection  with 
the  great  event  of  which  they  form  a  part.  They 
have  much  to  tell  us  of  the  Sufferer,  and  the  nature 
of  his  sufferings  ;  and  they  help  us  to  get  at  the 
meaning  of  the  mysterious  transaction  of  that  hour, 
— an  hour  of  the  deepest  darkness  that  ever  rested 
over  earth,  yet  an  hour  which  proved  the  forerunner 
of  the  brightest  and  most  blessed  day-spring  that 
ever  shone  from  heaven. 

1.  The  thirst. — It  was  a  true  thirst,  and  as  deep 
and  sore  as  it  was  true.  It  was  a  thirst  corres- 
ponding with  the  character  of  him  who  felt  it. 
He  was  human,  and  He  was  divine.  It  was, 
of  course,  humanity  that  thirsted  ;  but  it  was 
humanity  in  union  with  divinity,  and  therefore 
made  more  susceptible  of  suffering,  more  capable 
of  enduring  what  alone  it  would  not  have  been 
capable  of  undergoing.      Christ's    humanity  was 

perfect  ;   but  that  only  made  it  more  sensitive, 
119 


120  the  surety's  thirst. 

more  acutely  alive  to  suffering,  so  that  his  hunger, 
his  thirst,  his  weariness,  instead  of  being  mitigated 
or  made  unreal,  becani2  more  real  and  intense, 
more  unmodified  and  harder  to  bear,  than  they  are 
or  can  be  in  our  imperfect  humanity.  The  perfec- 
tion of  humanity  implies  the  perfection  of  suffering, 
whenever  that  perfect  humanity  comes  into  contact 
with  suffering  at  all.  Pre-eminence  in  sorrow,  and 
pre  eminence  in  joy,  must  be  the  portion  and  pre- 
rogative of  such  exalted  perfection.  It  is  only 
perfection  such  as  this  that  can  sound  the  depths 
of  creature-sadness,  or  reach  the  heights  of  human 
joy.  Had  there  been  one  taint  of  imperfection, 
about  either  the  body  or  the  soul  of  Jesus,  he 
could  not  have  tasted  the  whole  bitterness  of  our 
anguish  ;  he  could  not  have  drained  our  cup  ;  he 
could  not  have  paid  our  penalty  ;  he  could  not 
have  felt  that  extremity  of  thirst,  regarding  which 
he  uttered  the  bitter  outcry  in  the  hour  of  his 
conflict  with  death,  and  with  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness, upon  the  cross. 

Christ  was  filled  with  the  Spirit,  "  without 
measure,"  in  a  way  and  to  an  extent  such  as  no 
other  man  ever  was  or  could  be  ;  yet  this  did  not 
exempt  him  from  pain,  or  make  his  thirst  unreal, 
or  alleviate  one  pang  which  fell  to  his  lot  as  the 
Sin-bearer.  With  that  Spirit  He  was  filled  ;  by 
that  Spirit  he  was  sustained  and  strengthened  ; 
by  that  "  eternal  Spirit"  he  offered  himself  without 
spot  to  God  ; "  but  in  no  way  and  at  no  time  did 


THE   SURETY'S    THIRST.  121 

this  Spirit  come  between  him  and  suffering,  either 
to  blunt  the  edge  of  the  weapon  or  ward  off  the 
stroke.  The  indwelling  of  the  Spirit  in  him  added 
to  his  perfection,  and  every  addition  to  his  perfec- 
tion was  an  increase  of  his  susceptibility  to 
suffering  ;  so  that  he  felt  pain  more  than  we  can 
do  ;  he  felt  weariness,  hunger,  thirst,  more  than  we 
can  do.  The  Spirit  that  dwelt  within  him  could 
not,  indeed,  feel  the  pain  or  the  thirst  ;  but  the 
human  nature  thus  inhabited  by  the  Spirit  was 
made  capable  of  containing  or  receiving  more  pain, 
and  thirst,  and  sorrow  than  it  could  have  done 
otherwise,  even  as  perfect  humanity. 

Christ  was  God-man  ;  very  Gocl  as  truly  as  very 
man.  But  this  did  neither  prevent  nor  nullify  his 
sufferings.  No  abatement  could  be  made  from  his 
sorrows,  either  in  respect  of  number  or  intensity, 
because  of  his  Godhead.  That  Godhead  seemed 
only  to  present  him  as  a  broader  mark  for  the 
arrows  of  his  enemies ;  to  make  him  a  more 
capacious  vessel  for  containing  the  fulness  of  the 
divine  wrath  due  to  him  as  the  sinner's  substitute. 
The  Godhead  could  not,  indeed,  suffer,  nor  hunger, 
nor  thirst,  nor  weep  ;  but,  by  its  union  with  the 
manhood,  it  could  make  all  these  endurances  more 
true  and  more  intense  to  that  humanity  with 
which  it  was  united  ;  not  only  attaching  to  these 
sufferings  a  value  which  they  could  not  otherwise 
have  had,  but  imparting  to  them  a  profound 
reality,  which,  in  other  circumstances,  could  not 
have  belonged  to  them.     We  need  to  be  cautious 


122  the  surety's  thirst. 

in  using  language  respecting  Christ  not  expressly 
employed  in  Scripture  ;  but,  seeing  the  love  of 
Christ  is  called  the  love  of  God,  and  the  blood  of 
Christ  is  called  the  blood  of  God.  mav  we  not  term 
the  thirst  of  the  Son  of  God  upon  the  cross,  "  the 
thirst  of  God?" 

How  true  was  the  humanity  of  Christ !  That 
thirst  proclaims  him  truly  a  man  ;  in  body  and  in 
soul  a  man  ;  in  sorrow  and  in  joy  a  man.  His 
Godhead  did  not  neutralize  his  manhood,  nor  make 
any  of  its  actings  less  truly  human.  That  which 
was  divine  in  his  person  made  that  which  was 
human  more  thoroughly  human  than  it  could  have 
been  in  any  other  circumstances.  As  his  humanity 
shewed  forth  his  Godhead  more  illustriously,  so  his 
Godhead  brought  out  his  humanity  into  fuller,  wider, 
truer,  and  more  perfect  action,  exhibiting  it  in  an 
extremity  of  weakness  and  suffering,  to  which  it 
could  not  otherwise  have  been  reduced  without 
wholly  giving  way.  No  mere  man  could  have 
passed  through  Gethsemane  and  Golgotha,  could 
have  endured  the  agony  of  the  one,  and  the  thirst 
of  the  other,  without  being  annihilated. 

And  what  does  this  thirst  mean  ?  Is  it  a  mere 
vain  exhibition  of  what  humanity  can  bear ;  of 
what  the  Creator  can  enable  the  creature  to  en- 
dure ?  No.  He  thirsts  as  the  sinner's  substitute ; 
and  his  strength  is  dried  up  like  a  potsherd,  because 
the  heat  of  divine  wrath  was  withering  up  his  mois- 
ture. That  thirst  is  expiatory;  for  he  suffers  the 
Just  for  the  unjust.     He  thirsts,  that  we  might  not 


the  surety's  thirst.  123 

thirst.  He  is  parched,  that  we  might  not  be  parched. 
He  is  consumed  with  wrath,  that  we  might  not  be 
consumed.  That  thirst  is  the  bearing  of  your  sin  and 
your  hell,  0  believer.  That  thirst  is  the  unsealing 
of  the  eternal  fountain,  that  its  waters  might  flow 
forth  to  the  parched  and  weary  sons  of  earth.  How 
much  we  owe  to  that  awful  thirst  !  How  much  we 
owe  to  the  love  of  Him  who  thirsted  upon  that  cross 
for  us  ! 

II.  The  cry.— "I  thirst,"  or,  "I  am  thirsty.'' 
These  are  common  words  among  us  ;  and  the  cry, 
in  itself,  does  not  strike  us  as  remarkable.  "I  am 
thirsty,"  says  the  child  to  its  mother.  "  I  am 
thirsty,"  says  the  traveller  on  the  highway.  "  I 
am  thirsty,"  says  the  sick  man  on  his  hot  bed  of 
fever.  We  are  familiar  with  the  cry;  it  is  that  of 
a  fellow-mortal  ;  and  we  know  that  it  will  be  met 
with  a  quick  response,  for  it  is  a  cry  for  something 
which  can  be  easily  and  cheaply  supplied. 

But  when  such  words  come  from  the  lips  of  the 
Son  of  God,  the  case  is  wholly  different.  It  is  no 
remarkable  thing  to  hear  a  beggar  asking  alms  on 
the  highway  or  at  our  door  ;  but  when  the  great 
Roman  general,  the  conqueror  of  kings,  is  reduced 
to  poverty,  and  begs  his  bread,  we  are  amazed  ;  an 
interest  is  immediately  excited,  and  we  ask,  How 
is  this  ?  So,  when  the  cry  comes  from  him  who  is 
God  over  all,  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth,  the 
framer  of  all  earth's  fountains  and  streams,  the 
fashioner  of  man's  soul  and  body,  we  are  startled. 


124  the  surety's  thirst. 

How  can  this  be  ?  Whence  does  it  arise  ?  What 
can  it  mean  ?  Is  the  cry  a  real  and  natural  one  ? 
Is  it  the  true  expression  of  deep-felt  pain  in  the 
divine  utterer  ?  or  is  it  the  mere  indication  by  him 
of  what,  in  such  circumstances,  a  crucified  malefac- 
tor would  feel,  but  which  he  himself,  in  virtue  of 
his  exalted  nature,  could  not  possibly  have  been 
supposed  to  suffer  ? 

One  thing  strikes  us  much  here.  His  is  the  only 
cry  heard  at  this  time.  There  are  two  men  on 
crosses  beside  him  ;  but  they  utter  no  cry.  One 
spends  his  breath  in  reviling,  the  other  in  praying; 
but  they  do  not  say,  "  I  thirst."  This  is  a  pecu- 
liarity which  we  cannot  fail  to  notice.  Of  the  three 
sufferers,  the  Son  of  God  alone  utters  the  cry  of 
thirst.  How  great  must  that  thirst  have  been  ! 
how  bitter  the  cry  thus  wrung  from  his  expiring 
lips  ! 

Specially  does  this  appear  when  we  call  to  mind 
the  meek  and  uncomplaining  character  of  the  holy 
sufferer.  Only  once  or  twice,  in  a  life  of  unutter- 
able sorrow,  did  he  allow  any  expression  of  his  grief 
to  escape  him,  as  when  he  said,  "  Now  is  my  soul 
troubled  ;"  and  when  in  Gethsemane  he  said,  "My 
soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death  ;"  and 
now  on  the  cross,  when  he  exclaimed,  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  and  again, 
in  the  words  of  our  text,  ' '  I  thirst."  Intense  and 
overpowering  must  have  been  his  thirst  ere  it  could 
have  extorted  from  him  such  an  utterance  at  such 
a  time. 


SEKMON  XVIT. 

THE  SURETY'S   THIRST. 

"  Jesus  said,  I  thirst." — John  xix.  28. 

The  present  is  the  only  reference  which  the  Lord 
makes  to  pain  of  body ;  the  others  are  to  the  griefs 
of  his  troubled  soul.  No  doubt,  in  the  Psalms  he 
alludes  once  or  twice  to  his  bodily  sufferings,  as 
when  he  speaks  of  his  bones  being  out  of  joint,  his 
heart  melted  like  wax,  his  strength  dried  up  like  a 
potsherd.  But  these  intimations  of  corporeal  pain 
are  few;  it  is  of  the  sorrows  of  his  soul,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  wrath  of  God,  that  he  speaks  so  fully. 
In  the  Gospels,  this  cry  of  thirst  is  the  only  expres- 
sion of  bodily  anguish  that  is  recorded  ;  and  from 
the  way  in  which  it  is  introduced  we  are  plainly 
given  to  understand  that  even  this  cry  would  not 
have  been  uttered  had  it  not  been  for  the  fulfilling 
of  Scripture.  However  terrible  the  thirst,  the  cry 
would  have  been  repressed,  had  it  not  been  for  what 
was  written  in  the  Psalms  concerning  this, — "  In 
my  thirst  they  gave  me  vinegar  to  drink"  (Ps.  lxix. 
21).  For  thus  the  Evangelist  writes  :  "  After  this, 
Jesus,  knowing  that  all  things  were  now  accom- 
plished, that  the  scripture  might  be  fulfilled,  saith, 
I  thirst." 


126  the  surety's  thirst. 

Not  that  the  cry  was  unreal,  and  merely  uttered, 
as  one  might  say,  to  serve  a  purpose.  The  cry  was 
the  embodiment  of  the  most  real  anguish  ever  felt 
on  earth.  But  this  anguish  was,  as  we  see  in  the 
Psalms,  only  poured  out  into  the  Father's  ears  ; 
for  these  Psalms  which  I  refer  to  are  the  secret 
and  confidential  utterances  of  Christ  in  his  inter- 
course with  the  Father.  The  outpourings  of  his 
human  griefs,  the  outcries  of  his  anguished  spirit, 
were  not  for  man's  ears  ;  only  on  the  present  occa- 
sion he  allows  himself  to  be  overheard  by  man,  in 
order  that  thereby  he  might  put  honour  upon  the 
Father's  word,  and  shew  himself  in  all  things  the 
obedient  Son,  the  doer  of  the  Father's  work,  the 
fulfiller  of  the  Father's  will. 

Terrible  was  that  cry,  "  I  thirst ;"  for  it  was  the 
cry  of  God.  It  is  a  fearful  thing,  they  say,  to  see 
strong  men  weep,  or  hear  strong  men  cry  ;  but 
here  was  One  stronger  than  the  strongest,  higher 
than  the  highest,  the  Son  of  God  himself,  con- 
strained to  give  vent  to  his  suffering  in  this  pierc- 
ing cry,  "I  thirst!"  To  what  an  extremity  of 
weakness  is  he  here  reduced,  and  under  what  a 
burden  of  agony  is  he  weighed  down,  when  he 
utters  it !  He  would  rather  not  utter  it  ;  he  has 
repressed  it  long  ;  he  has  put  forth  his  strength 
in  repressing  and  in  bearing  up  under  the  pain,  un- 
complaining ;  but  now  he  can  refrain  no  longer  ; 
he  must  cry  out, that  he  may  give  vent  to  the 
long  pent-up  agony. 

Terrible  was  that  cry  ;  for  it  was  the  cry  of  One 


the  surety's  thirst.  127 

sinking  into  death  under  the  condemnation  of 
man's  sin,  under  the  weight  of  infinite  guilt.  It 
was  the  cry  of  One  subjected  to  the  wrath  of  him 
who  is  a  consuming  fire  ;  of  One  who  felt  himself 
about  to  be  overcome  of  his  great  enemy,  in  deadly 
conflict  ;  of  One  who  knew  that  no  help  was  nigh ; 
that  he  was  to  be  left  unsuccoured  by  God  and 
man. 

Such  was  the  cry  of  the  Substitute, — a  piercing, 
bitter,  agonising  cry  !  No  parched  and  weary 
Ishmaelite,  throwing  himself  down  in  despair  be- 
side a  dried-up  well,  ever  uttered  such  a  cry  as 
this.  But  it  is  the  very  bitterness  of  the  cry  that 
tells  us  its  efficacy.  It  is  a  cry  wholly  relating  to 
the  sufferer  himself,  not  to  us  ;  it  is  the  cry,  not  of 
intercession,  but  of  agony  ;  yet,  it  is  not  on  that 
account  the  less  sufficient  and  satisfying  for  us. 
It  tells  of  propitiation  fully  made,  of  redemption 
gloriously  accomplished,  of  the  debt  paid  to  the 
last  farthing.  It  tells  us,  too,  of  love  ;  love  im- 
measurable and  unutterable  ;  love  triumphing  over 
shame  and  anguish,  over  hunger  and  thirst ;  love 
which  many  waters  could  not  quench,  nor  the 
floods  drown  ;  love  to  the  Father,  love  to  the  sin- 
ner ;  the  love  of  the  Shepherd  to  his  flock  ;  the 
love  of  the  Head  to  the  members  ;  the  love  of  the 
elder  Brother  to  his  brethren  ;  the  love  of  the 
Eedeemer  to  his  Church  ;  the  love  of  the  Bride- 
groom to  his  bride-elect  ;  the  love  that  passeth 
knowledge,  and  whose  breadth  and  length,  whose 
height  and  depth,   are   beyond   all    measure    and 


128  the  surety's  thirst. 

comprehension  ;  the  love  of  the  Just  to  the  unjust; 
the  holy  to  the  unholy ;  the  heavenly  to  the 
the  earthly  ;  the  Creator  to  the  creature  ;  the 
love  of  the  Only-begotten  of  the  Father,  like  him- 
self, infinite  and  divine. 

That  awful  cry,  as  it  was  the  expression  of  the 
bodily  anguish  which  was  filling  him,  as  the  Sub- 
stitute, so  was  it  the  indication  of  that  bodily  tor- 
ment from  which  his  people  have  been  delivered 
by  his  endurance  of  it  in  their  stead.  He  drank 
it  that  they  might  never  taste  it  ;  for  "  they  shall 
hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more,  neither 
shall  the  sun  light  on  them,  nor  any  heat  ;" 
"  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes, 
and  there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow 
nor  crying,  for  the  former  things  have  passed 
away"  (Rev.  xxi.  4). 

That  awful  cry,  as  it  was  the  expression  of  the 
bodily  endurance  through  which  the  Surety  passed, 
so  is  it  the  announcement  of  the  bodily  torment  of 
the  lost  for  ever.  Oh,  what  must  hell  be  !  What 
must  be  the  unquenchable  fire  !  What  must  be 
the  everlasting  thirst !  What  must  be  the  weep- 
ing, and  wailing,  and  gnashing  of  teeth  !  "  Have 
mercy  upon  me,"  cries  the  rich  man  in  hell,  iC  and 
send  Lazarus,  that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger 
in  water,  and  cool  my  tongue,  for  I  am  tormented 
in  this  flame  '  (Luke  xvi.  24).  Such  is  the  eternal 
thirst,  and  such  its  awful  utterance.  A  day's  thirst, 
under  a  scorching  sun,  is  terrible  ;  what  must  be 
an  eternity  of  thirst  in  the  heat  of  the  devouring 


the  surety's  thirst.  129 

fire  !  0  lost  soul,  you  must  thirst  for  ever  !  Be- 
cause thou  hast,  while  here,  forsaken  the  fountain 
of  living  water,  and  hewn  out  for  thyself  cisterns, 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water,  therefore, 
instead  of  the  living  water,  clear  as  crystal,  thou 
shalt  drink  of  the  wine  of  the  fierceness  of  his 
wrath  ;  "  the  wine  of  the  wrath  of  God,  which  is 
poured  out  without  mixture  into  the  cup  of  his  in- 
dignation, and  shalt  be  tormented  with  fire  and 
brimstone,  in  the  presence  of  the  holy  angels,  and 
in  the  presence  of  the  Lamb'   (Rev.  xiv.  10). 

III.  The  Answer. — From  above  there  came  no 
answer.  God  was  silent.  From  around  there  came 
derision.  Man  answered  with  laughter  and  with 
vinegar. 

It  is  not  God's  wont  to  be  silent  in  such  a  case. 
He  feeds  the  young  ravens  when  they  cry.  He 
regards  the  prayer  of  the  needy.  His  ear  is  ever 
open  to  the  cry  of  the  destitute  and  the  sorrowful. 
But  here  he  answers  not  a  word.  No  wonder  that 
Christ  should  say,  "  My  God,  why  hast  thou  for- 
saken me  ? '  He  thirsts,  but  the  Father  seems 
not  to  regard  his  thirst  ;  he  cries,  but  the  Father 
gives  no  heed  to  his  cries.  When  Hagar  cried  out 
for  thirst  in  the  desert  of  Beersheba,  God  sent  his 
angel  and  led  her  to  the  unseen  well.  When  Israel 
cried  at  Marah,  God  sweetened  the  bitter  waters 
for  them  ;  and  when  they  cried  in  Horeb,  he  smote 
the  rock,  and  the  waters  gushed  forth.  When 
Samson  cried  out  for  thirst  at  Ramath-Lehi,  God 


130  THE  SURETY'S  THIRST. 

opened  a  spring  for  him  in  the  very  jaw-bone  which 
he  had  used  as  a  weapon. 

But  now  God  answers  not.  It  is  not  Hagar, 
nor  Israel,  nor  Samson,  that  cries,  but  One  far 
greater  and  more  beloved  than  these.  Yet  God 
answers  not.  This  is  the  crisis  of  the  abandon- 
ment ;  God  must  have  forsaken  him,  when  a  cup 
of  cold  water  is  denied.  An  angel  came  to  the 
Sufferer  in  Gethsemane  to  strengthen  him  ;  but 
no  angel  comes  with  a  cup  of  water  to  quench  his 
thirst.     All  heaven  seems  to  stand  aloof. 

Ah  !  this  is  the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness. 
He  has  taken  the  sinner's  place,  and  he  must  bear 
the  sinner's  anguish,  both  in  soul  and  body.  He 
must  suffer  the  sinner  s  thirst,  as  well  as  die  the 
sinner's  death.  Every  drop  of  the  cup  given  him 
he  must  drink  ;  and  neither  he  himself  nor  his  Fa- 
ther will  interfere  to  put  aside  the  draught,  or  to 
abstract  a  single  drop.  The  Father's  love  to  the 
Son  is  still  the  same  ;  but  righteousness  stays  his 
hand,  and  restrains  the  forth-putting  of  his  deliver- 
ing power.  His  readiness  to  hear  the  prayers  of 
the  beloved  Son  remains  unaltered  ;  but  love  to 
sinners,  love  to  the  Church,  constrain  him  to  shut 
his  ear  against  this  last  cry  of  anguish.  Ah  !  that 
"no  answer'  from  heaven,  that  silence  of  the 
Father,  is  the  proof  that  the  great  surety-work  for 
us  is  going  on  successfully,  and  approaching  its 
consummation.  In  the  infliction  of  judicial  wrath, 
and  the  withholding  of  fatherly  deliverance  in  the 
hour  of  need,  we  see  the  inflexible  carrying  out  of 


the  surety's  thirst.  131 

those  principles  of  law  and  justice  on  which  alone 
substitution  can  proceed,  forgiveness  be  founded, 
and  salvation  secured.  It  is  not  of  diluted  wine, 
nor  of  a  half-filled  cup,  that  the  sin-bearing  Son  of 
God  must  drink.  The  wine  must  be  unmixed,  and 
the  cup  full  ;  otherwise  the  sin  is  not  wholly  borne, 
nor  the  great  work  perfected,  of  the  just  for  the 
unjust.  Love  would  have  said,  Oh,  hear  that  cry, 
and  quench  that  thirst  ;  but  law  said,  Not  so,  else 
the  sacrifice  is  blemished,  and  the  suretyship  ren- 
dered invalid. 

Thus  the  Father  kept  silence  ;  he,  who  alone 
could  have  relieved  that  anguish,  stood  aloof. 
Justice  took  its  course,  and  law  was  satisfied. 
The  sacrifice  was  completed  and  the  penalty  ex- 
hausted ;  for,  immediately  after  this,  Jesus  said, 
"  It  is  finished,"  and,  bowing  the  head,  he  gave  up 
the  ghost. 


SERMON   XV11I. 
i 

THE   SURETY'S    THIRST. 
"  Jesus  said,  I  thirst." — John  xix.  28. 

Oh,  well  for  us  that  thus  the  work  was  so  com- 
pletely done  !  What  glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to 
us  come  forth,  not  only  from  that  thirst  and  that 
cry  of  the  Son  of  God,  but  from  the  silence  of  the 
Father  !  It  is  finished,  said  the  Son  on  earth.  It 
is  finished,  said  the  Father  from  heaven.  And  it 
is  when  we  learn  the  meaning  of  that  thirst  and 
that  cry;  when  we  so  learn  their  meaning  as  to  add 
our  Amen  to  the  "It  is  finished  "  of  the  Father  and 
the  Son,  that  the  great  reconciliation  begins  between 
us  and  God  ;  and  in  proportion  to  our  increasing 
perception  of  the  completeness  of  the  wondrous 
sacrifice,  our  peace  deepens,  our  joy  overflows,  our 
hope  kindles  into  new  brightness  ;  the  shadows 
of  the  cross  bringing  out,  in  full  relief,  the  vision  of 
the  approaching  glory. 

But  it  is  not  only  from  heaven  that  there  is  no 
response  ;  from  earth  there  comes  no  answer,  or,  at 
least,  no  sympathy.  Man  does  not  understand  the 
thirst,  and  heeds  not  the  cry  of  the  Sufferer.  If 
ever  there  was  an  appeal  of  anguish  that  could 
reach  man's  heart,  and  call  forth  any  latent  spark 


the  surety's  thirst.  133 

of  love  or  pity,  it  was  this  cry  from  the  cross.  This 
seemed  to  be  God's  last  appeal  to  man, — his  last 
test,  applied,  to  see  if  there  was  any  goodness,  any 
right  feeling  remaining  in  him,  any  sympathy  with 
the  Son  of  God.  For  when  was  the  cry  for  water 
refused,  or  the  thirst  of  the  dying  mocked  ?  But 
man  heeds  not  the  anguish  of  the  Crucified.  God's 
last  appeal  to  him  is  in  vain.  He  meets  the  cry 
of  the  Son  of  God  with  mockery. 

It  would  seem  that  Jesus  was  offered  vinegar 
more  than  once,  and  possibly  among  some  of  those 
who  presented  it  there  might  be  a  feeling  of  pity  ; 
for  the  simple  fact  of  its  being  vinegar  is  no  proof 
of  its  being  meant  as  insult,  seeing  that  vinegar  was 
the  only  thing  at  hand ;  being  the  usual  drink  of  the 
Eoman  soldiers.  If  this  were  the  case,  it  only 
shews  how  utterly  unable  man  was,  even  if  will- 
ing, to  relieve  the  anguish  of  the  Sufferer.  Help 
from  man  was  vain.  All  that  he  could  offer  was 
but  like  the  feather  wetting  the  lips  of  the  dying. 
But  it  is  clear,  both  from  the  passage  itself  and 
from  the  Psalms,  that  the  offering  of  the  vinegar 
was  meant  as  mockery.  The  Jew  said,  in  taunt, 
and  with  pretended  misunderstanding  of  his  words, 
"  This  man  calls  for  Elias  ;"  and  the  Gentile  pre- 
sented his  vinegar  ;  thus  between  them  completing 
the  mockery.  This  is  the  last  venting  of  man's 
enmity  against  the  Son,  the  last  drop  of  the  old 
serpent's  venom  poured  upon  the  seed  of  the 
woman. 

It   was    not,    indeed,    in  man's  power  fully  to 


134  the  surety's  thirst. 

relieve  this  awful  thirst ;  vet  he  could  have  done 
something  ;  and  even  had  he  failed,  he  could  have 
shewn  his  pity.  But  pity  is  not  in  his  bosom  where 
God  is  concerned.  "This  is  the  heir;  come;  let  us 
kill  him,"  is  his  feeling.  He  has  got  God  into  his 
power  ;  he  has  got  the  Son  of  God  hanging  help- 
lessly on  a  tree  ;  and  his  enmity  to  God  now  gets 
vent  to  itself.  He  can  mock  God  safely  now.  Sam- 
son has  lost  his  strength,  and  his  enemies  may  work 
their  fill  of  malignity  against  him.  Thus  man's  hatred 
of  God  comes  out  in  all  its  bitterness  ;  and  it  does 
so,  just  at  the  very  point  where  God's  love  was  com- 
ing out  in  its  fulness.  Never  did  love  and  hatred, 
kindness  and  enmity,  so  meet  together.  Never  was 
love  so  requited,  and  kindness  so  mocked,  as  here. 
God  has  come  down  to  prove  man  :  he  dwelt  on 
man's  earth  ;  he  lived  a  life  of  service  for  man ;  he 
emptied  himself ;  he  reduced  himself  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  weakness  and  suffering  ;  he  put  himself 
into  man's  power,  and  appealed,  not  to  his  highest 
and  noblest  feelings,  but  to  the  commonest  sympa- 
thies of  mere  humanity.  But  all  in  vain.  In  such  cir- 
cumstances even  the  worst  malefactor  would  be  pitied 
and  relieved.  The  fact,  however,  of  the  sufferer 
being  a  holy  man  shuts  out  their  sympathy;  and  the 
fact  of  his  being  the  Son  of  God  rouses  their  hatred. 
That  very  thing,  which  ought  to  have  overawed 
them,  and  drawn  out  their  profoundest  sympathies, 
is  that  which  calls  forth  insult,  which  extinguishes 
pity,  which  steels  them  against  the  Sufferer's  cry, 
which  rouses  all  hell  in  their  bosoms  !     Towards 


the  surety's  thirst.  135 

men  they  would  have  acted  and  felt  as  men  ;  to- 
wards God  they  are  as  devils  ! 

Now  is  their  time  for  taunt,  and  insult,  and 
cruelty.  So  long  as  he  is  going  about,  doing 
miracles,  they  are  afraid  to  touch  him.  They 
know  not  how  he  may  avenge  himself.  But  now, 
when  he  is  dying  on  a  cross,  they  may  hate  and 
mock  him  as  they  please.  Now,  when  the  lion  of 
the  tribe  of  Judah  is  in  chains,  and  expiring  of  his 
wounds,  they  may  trample  on  him  at  will.  0  man, 
such  is  thy  heart !  Such  is  the  extent  of  thy  en- 
mity to  the  God  in  whom  thou  livest,  and  movest, 
and  hast  thy  being  ! 

But  though,  at  the  time,  there  was  no  response 
from  heaven,  and  nought  but  mockery  on  earth, 
this  state  of  things  was  only  for  an  hour.  The 
silence  cannot  last  :  the  cry  of  the  only-begotten 
Son  must  be  heard,  though  at  another  time  and  in 
another  way.  Him  the  Father  heareth  always  ; 
and  this  appeal  of  the  Son  of  God  for  something 
to  quench  his  thirst  is  not  unheeded.  The  answer 
is  denied  at  the  moment,  but  only  that  it  may  be 
given  in  all  its  largeness  thereafter.  The  denial  of 
the  request  finished  the  mighty  work,  through 
means  of  which,  a  glorious  answer  was  to  be  vouch- 
safed, in  which  he  was  not  merely  to  have  his 
thirst  quenched,  but  to  see  of  the  travail  of  his 
soul,  and  to  be  satisfied.  His  death,  which  imme- 
diately followed  this  silence,  was  the  smiting  of 
the  rock,  from  which  the  waters  were  to  gush 
forth  which  were  to  quench  the  thirst  both  of  soul 


136  the  surety's  tiijkst. 

and  body  ;  and  not  his  own  thirst  alone,  but  that 
of  millions, — the  whole  vast  multitude  of  the 
redeemed  from  among  men. 

Yes  ;  God's  answer  to  the  cry  of  his  Son  is  his 
raising  him  from  the  dead,  crowning  him  with 
glory  and  honour,  exalting  him  to  be  a  Prince  and 
a  Saviour,  to  give  repentance  and  forgiveness ; 
depositing  in  him  those  gifts  for  the  rebellious, 
which  he  was  to  bestow  on  men  ;  making  him 
King  and  Head  over  all  things,  and  investing  him 
with  a  kingdom  which  shall  have  no  end.  He 
humbled  himself  to  the  death  of  the  cross,  and 
therefore  God  hath  highly  exalted  him.  Thus,  in 
the  end,  the  Father's  love  to  the  Son  is  manifested, 
and  his  righteousness  vindicated.  He  hath  done 
all  things  well. 

And  then,  how  has  God  avenged  himself  on 
man  for  his  refusal  to  heed  the  cry  of  his  Son  ? 
Here,  too,  evil  has  been  overcome  of  good  ;  and 
where  sin  abounded,  there  grace  has  much  more 
abounded.  Man  mocks  the  thirst  of  God,  but  God 
pities  and  relieves  the  thirst  of  man.  He  makes 
man's  wrath  to  praise  him,  and  to  be,  besides,  the 
means  of  blessing  to  himself.  This  crucified  Christ, 
whom  man  only  insults,  is  the  appointed  Saviour  ; 
and  man,  though  he  knew  it  not,  has  been  carrying 
out  God's  redeeming  work.  Man,  though  he  meant 
it  not,  has  been  slaying  the  sacrifice  by  which  recon- 
ciliation is  accomplished.  He  has  been  helping 
to  smite  the  rock,  from  which  the  living  water 
was  to  gush  forth  to  satisfy  the  thirst  of  sinners. 


the  surety's  tiiiest.  137 

Herein  is  love  ;  not  man  loving  God,  but  God 
loving  man  ;  so  loving  man  as  to  persist  in  his 
great  work  of  grace,  notwithstanding  man's  utmost 
hatred  and  rejection.  Here  is  the  fountain  which 
love  has  opened,  and  which  flows  in  the  waste 
places  of  earth  like  a  river.  Here  is  God's  pro- 
vision, not  only  for  man's  pardon,  but  for  his  fullest 
joy.  The  Surety  thirsted  that  we  might  not 
thirst  ;  he  drank  of  the  vinegar  that  we  might  not 
drink  it ;  he  drained  the  cup  of  wrath  that  we 
might  never  taste  it  ;  he  was  wounded  that  we 
might  be  healed.  And,  standing  by  that  very 
cross,  where  the  Son  of  God  was  mocked  in  his 
thirst,  and  refused  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  moisten 
his  parched  lips,  the  messenger  of  God's  free-love 
lifts  up  his  voice,  and  says,  "Let  him  that  is 
athirst  come  ;  and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of 
the  water  of  life  freely." 


SERMON  XIX. 

THE    SURETY'S    CROSS. 

"  The  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'' — Gal.  vi.  14. 

The  death  of  the  cross  1ms  always  been,  above 
every  other,  reckoned  the  death  of  shame.  The 
fire,  the  sword,  the  axe,  the  stone,  the  hemlock, 
have  in  their  turns  been  used  by  law,  as  its  exe- 
cutioners ;  but  these  have,  in  so  many  cases,  been 
associated  with  honour,  that  death  by  means  of 
them  has  not  been  reckoned  either  cursed  or 
shameful.  Not  so  the  cross.  Its  victim,  nailed 
in  agony  to  the  rough  wood,  suspended  naked  and 
torn  to  the  gaze  of  multitudes,  has  always  been 
reckoned  a  specimen  of  disgraced  and  degraded 
humanity  ;  rather  to  be  mocked  than  pitied.  With 
Jew  and  Gentile  alike,  evil  and  not  good,  the  curse 
and  not  the  blessing,  have  been  connected  with  the 
cross.  In  men's  thoughts  and  symbols  it  has  been 
treated  as  synonymous  with  ignominy,  and  weak- 
ness, and  crime.  God  had  allowed  this  idea  to 
root  itself  universally,  in  order  that  there  might  be 
provided  a  place  of  shame,  lower  than  all  others, 
for  the  great  Substitute  who,  in  the  fulness  of  time 
was  to  take  the  sinner's  place,  and  be  himself  the 
great  outcast  from  man  and  God,  despised  and  re- 

188 


THE  SURETY'S  CROSS.  139 

jected,  deemed  unworthy  even  to  die  within  the 
gates  of  the  holy  city. 

Not  till  more  than  four  thousand  years  had  gone 
by,  did  it  begin  to  be  rumoured  that  the  cross  was 
not  what  men  thought  it,  the  place  of  the  curse 
and  shame,  but  of  strength  and  honour  and  life  and 
blessing.  Then  it  was  that  there  burst  upon  the 
astonished  world  the  bold  announcement,  "God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Greek  and  Roman,  Jew  and 
Gentile,  prince,  priest,  philosopher,  Rabbi,  Stoic, 
Epicurean,  Pharisee,  barbarian,  Scythian,  bond 
and  free,  North,  South,  East  and  West,  looked  to 
one  another  with  contemptuous  impatience,  indig- 
nant at  the  audacity  of  a  few  Jews,  thus  affronting 
and  defying  the  "  public  opinion  "  of  nations  and 
ages  ;  assailing  the  faiths  and  unbeliefs  of  earth 
with  this  as  their  only  sword ;  striking  down  the 
idols  with  this  as  their  only  hammer  ;  and  with 
this,  as  their  one  lever,  proposing  to  turn  the  world 
upside  down. 

From  that  day  the  cross  became  "  a  power  "  in 
the  earth  ;  a  power  which  went  forth,  like  the 
light,  noiselessly  yet  irresistibly,  smiting  down  all 
religions  alike,  all  shrines  alike,  all  altars  alike  ; 
sparing  no  superstition  nor  philosophy  ;  neither 
flattering  priesthood,  nor  succumbing  to  statesman- 
ship ;  tolerating  no  error,  yet  refusing  to  draw 
the  sword  for  truth  ;  a  power  superhuman,  yet 
wielded  by  human,  not  angelic  hands  ;  "  the  power 
of  God  unto  salvation." 


140  TI3E  surety's  cross. 

This  power  remains  ; — in  its  mystery,  its  silence, 
its  influence  ; — it  remains.  The  cross  has  not  be- 
come obsolete  ;  the  preaching  of  the  cross  has  not 
ceased  to  be  effectual.  There  are  men  among;  us 
who  would  persuade  us  that,  in  this  late  age,  the 
cross  is  out  of  date  and  out  of  fashion,  time-worn, 
not  time-honoured ;  that  Golgotha  witnessed  only 
a  common  martyr  scene  ;  that  the  great  sepulchre 
is  but  a  Hebrew  tomb  ;  that  the  Christ  of  the 
future  and  the  Christ  of  the  past  are  widely  differ- 
ent. But  this  shakes  us  not.  It  only  leads  us  to 
clasp  the  cross  more  fervently,  and  to  study  it  more 
profoundly,  as  embodying  in  itself  that  gospel 
which  is  at  once  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of  God. 

The  secret  of  its  power  lies  in  the  amount  of 
divine  truth  which  it  embodies.  It  is  the  abridg- 
ment of  the  Bible  ;  the  epitome  of  Eevelation. 
It  is  pre-eminently  the  voice  of  God  ;  and,  as  such, 
conveying  his  power  as  well  as  uttering  his  wis- 
dom. "  The  voice  of  the  Lord  is  powerful ;  the 
voice  of  the  Lord  is  full  of  majesty." 

Yet  is  the  cross  not  without  its  mysteries,  or, 
as  men  would  say,  its  puzzles,  its  contradictions. 
It  illuminates,  }~et  it  darkens  ;  it  interprets,  yet  it 
confounds.  It  raises  questions,  but  refuses  to  an- 
swer all  that  it  has  raised.  It  solves  difficulties, 
but  it  creates  them  too.  It  locks  as  well  as 
unlocks.  It  openeth,  and  no  man  shutteth  ;  it 
shutteth,  and  no  man  openeth.  It  is  life,  yet  it  is 
death.  It  is  honour,  yet  it  is  shame.  It  is  wisdom, 
but  also  foolishness.     It  is  both  gain  and  loss ;  both 


THE  SURETY'S  CROSS.  141 

pardon  and  condemnation  ;  both  strength  and 
weakness  ;  both  joy  and  sorrow  ;  both  love  and 
hatred  ;  both  medicine  and  poison  ;  both  hope  and 
despair.  It  is  grace,  yet  it  is  righteousness  ;  it  is 
law,  yet  it  is  deliverance  from  law  ;  it  is  Christ's 
humiliation,  yet  it  is  Christ's  exaltation  ;  it  is 
Satan's  victory,  yet  it  is  Satan's  defeat ;  it  is  the 
gate  of  heaven  and  the  gate  of  hell. 

Let  us  look  at  the  cross  as  the  divine  proclama- 
tion and  interpretation  of  the  things  of  God  ;  the 
key  to  his  character,  his  word,  his  ways,  his  pur- 
poses ;  the  clue  to  the  intricacies  of  the  world's  and 
the  Church's  history. 

I.  It  is  the  interpreter  of  man. — By  means  of  it 
God  has  brought  out  to  view,  what  is  in  man.  In 
the  cross  man  has  spoken  out.  He  has  exhibited 
himself,  and  made  unconscious  confession  of  his 
feelings,  especially  in  reference  to  God, — to  his 
Being,  his  authority,  his  character,  his  law,  his 
love.  Though  "  the  determinate  counsel  and  fore- 
knowledge of  God  "  (Acts  ii.  23)  were  at  work  in 
the  awful  transaction,  yet  it  was  man  who  erected 
the  cross,  and  nailed  the  Son  of  God  to  it.  Permit- 
ted by  God  to  give  vent  to  the  feelings  of  his  heart, 
and  placed  in  circumstances  the  least  likely  to  call 
forth  anything  but  love,  he  thus  expressed  them,  in 
hatred  of  God  and  of  his  incarnate  Son.  Beckon- 
ing the  death  of  the  cross  the  worst  of  all,  he  deems 
it  the  fittest  for  the  "  Sjh  of  the  Blessed."  Thus, 
the  enmity  of  the  natural  heart  speaks  out,  and 


142  the  surety's  cross. 

man  not  only  confesses  publicly  that  he  is  a  hater 
of  God,  but  he  takes  pains  to  shew  the  intensity  of 
his  hatred.  Nay,  he  glories  in  his  shame,  crying 
aloud,  "  Crucify  him,  crucify  him  ;"  "This  is  the 
heir,  come  let  us  kill  him  ;"  "  Not  this  man,  but 
Barabbas."  The  cross  thus  interpreted  man  ;  drew 
the  mask  of  pretended  religion  from  his  face ;  and  ex- 
hibited a  soul  overflowing  with  the  malignity  of  hell. 
You  say,  "  I  don't  hate  God  ;  I  may  be  indiffer- 
ent to  him  ;  he  may  not  be  in  all  my  thoughts  ; 
but  I  don't  hate  him."  Then,  what  does  that  cross 
mean  ? — Love,  hatred,  indifference ; — which  ?  Does 
love  demand  the  death  of  the  loved  One  ?  Does 
indifference  crucify  its  objects  ?  Look  at  your 
hands  !  Are  they  not  red  with  blood  ?  Whose 
blood  is  that  ?  The  blood  of  God's  own  Son  !  No : 
neither  love  nor  indifference  shed  that  blood.  It 
was  hatred  that  did  it  ;  enmity  :  the  enmity  of 
the  carnal  mind.  You  say  that  I  have  no  right  to 
judge  you.  I  am  not  judging  you.  It  is  yon  cross 
that  judges  you,  and  I  am  asking  you  to  judge 
yourselves  by  it.  It  is  yon  cross  that  interprets 
your  purposes,  and  reveals  the  thoughts  and  intents 
of  your  heart.  Oh,  what  a  revelation  !  Man  hat- 
ing God  ;  and  hating  most,  when  God  is  loving 
most !  Man  acting  as  a  devil  ;  and  taking  the 
devil's  side  against  God  !  You  say,  "  What  have  I 
to  do  with  that  cross,  and  what  right  have  you  to 
identify  me  with  the  crucifiers  ?"  1  say,  "  Thou  art 
the  man."  Do  not  say,  "  Pilate  did  it,  Caiaphas 
did  it,  the  Jew  did  it,  the  Roman  did  it ;  I  did  it 


THE  SURETY'S  CROSS.  14 


9 


not."  Nay,  but  you  did,  you  did.  You  did  it  in 
your  representatives, — the  civilised  Koman  and  the 
religious  Jew  ;  and  until  you  come  out  from  the 
crucifying  crowd,  disown  your  representatives,  and 
protest  against  the  deed,  you  are  verily  guilty  of 
that  blood.  But  how  am  T.  to  sever  myself  from 
these  crucifiers,  and  protest  against  their  crime  ? 
By  believing  in  the  name  of  the  crucified  One. 
For  all  unbelief  is  approval  of  the  deed  and  identi- 
fication with  the  murderers.  Faith  is  man's  protest 
against  the  deed  ;  and  the  identification  of  himself, 
not  only  with  the  friends  and  disciples  of  the 
crucified  One,  but  with  the  crucified  One  himself. 

The  cross,  then,  was  the  public  declaration  of 
man's  hatred  of  God,  man's  rejection  of  his  Son, 
and  man's  avowal  of  his  belief  that  he  needs  no 
Saviour.  If  any  one,  then,  denies  the  ungodliness 
of  humanity,  and  pleads  for  the  native  goodness  of 
the  race,  I  ask,  what  means  yon  cross  ?  Of  what 
is  it  the  revealer  and  interpreter  ?  Of  hatred  or  of 
love  ?  Of  good  or  of  evil  ?  Besides,  in  this  rejec- 
tion of  the  Son  of  God,  we  have  also  man's  estimate 
of  him.  He  had  been  for  thirty  years  despised  and 
rejected  ;  he  had  been  valued  and  sold  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver  ;  a  robber  had  been  preferred  to 
him  ;  but  at  the  cross,  this  estimate  comes  out  more 
awfully  ;  and  there  we  see  how  man  undervalued 
his  person,  his  life,  his  blood,  his  word,  his  whole 
errand  from  the  Father.  "Whatthinkye  of  Christ?" 
was  God's  question.  Man's  answer  was,  The  cross! 
Was  not  that  as  explicit  as  it  was  appalling  ?" 


144  the  surety's  cross. 

As  the  cross  reveals  man's  depravity,  so  does  it 
exhibit  his  foolishness.  His  condemnation  of  him, 
in  whom  God  delighted,  shews  this.  His  erection 
of  the  cross  shews  it  still  more.  As  if  he  could  set 
at  nought  Jehovah,  and  clear  the  earth  of  him  who 
had  come  down  as  the  Doer  of  his  will !  His 
attempt  to  cast  shame  upon  the  Lord  of  glory  is 
like  a  child's  effort  to  blot  out  or  discolour  the  sun. 
And  as  his  erection  of  the  cross  was  the  revelation 
of  his  folly,  so  has  been  his  subsequent  estimate  of 
it,  and  of  the  gospel  which  has  issued  from  it.  He 
sees  in  it  no  wisdom,  but  cnly  foolishness  ;  and  this 
ascription  of  foolishness  to  the  cross  is  but  the  more 
decided  proof  of  his  own  foolishness.  He  stumbles 
at  this  stumbling-stone.  The  cross  is  an  offence  to 
him,  and  the  preaching  of  it  folly. 

My  friend,  what  is  that  cross  to  you  ?  Is  it  folly 
or  wisdom  ?  Do  you  see,  in  the  way  of  salvation 
which  it  reveals,  the  excellency  of  wTisdom,  as  well 
as  the  excellency  of  power  and  love  ?  Has  the 
cross,  interpreted  to  you  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
revealed  your  own  heart  as  a  hell  of  darkness  and 
evil  ?  Have  you  accepted  its  exposition  of  your 
character,  and  welcomed  it  also  as  salvation  for 
the  lost, — reconciliation  between  you  and  God  ? 

IT.  It  is  the  interpreter  of  God. — That  "  the  Word 
was  made  flesh"  is  a  blessed  fact,  fraught  with  grace 
to  us.  But  incarnation  is  not  the  whole  of  the  Bible; 
no,  not  half  of  it.  It  is  not  at  Bethlehem,  but  at 
Golgotha,  that  we  get  the  full  interpretation  of 


the  surety's  cross.  145 

God's  character.  "  Unto  us  a  child  is  born"  is  the 
dawn  ;  "  It  is  finished "  is  the  noon.  The  cross 
carries  out  and  completes  what  the  cradle  began. 

It  is  as  the  God  of  grace  that  the  cross  reveals 
him.  It  is  love,  free-love,  that  shines  out  in  its 
fulness  there.  "  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of 
God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for  us"  (1  John 
iii.  16).  It  is  as  "the  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merci- 
ful and  gracious,"  that  he  shews  himself.  Nor  could 
any  demonstration  of  the  sincerity  of  the  divine 
love  equal  this.  It  is  love  stronger  than  shame, 
and  suffering,  and  death  ;  love  immeasurable ;  love 
unquenchable.  Truly,  "  God  is  love."  In  his 
treatment  of  the  Son  of  God,  man  was  putting 
that  love  to  the  test.  In  the  cross  he  was  putting 
it  to  the  extremest  test  to  which  love  could  be  put. 
But  it  stands  them  all.  Man's  most  terrible  tests 
but  draw  it  forth  the  more  copiously,  and  give  it 
new  opportunities  of  displaying  its  riches.  What 
more  extreme  test  can  man  ask,  or  God  give,  than 
this  ? 

But  righteousness  as  well  as  grace  is  here.  The 
God  who  spared  not  his  own  Son  is  "  the  righteous 
Lord  who  loveth  righteousness,"  and  who  "  will  by 
no  means  clear  the  guilty."  We  learn  God's  right- 
eous character  in  many  ways.  We  learn  it  from 
its  dealings  with  righteousness,  as  in  the  case  of  all 
unfallen  ones  ;  we  learn  it  still  more  fully  from  its 
dealings  with  sin,  as  in  our  fallen  world  ;  but  we 
learn  it,  most  ofall,  from  its  dealings  with  both  of 
these  at  once,  and  in  the  same  person,  on  the  cross  of 

K 


146  the  surety's  cross. 

'  Christ.  For  here  is  the  righteous  Son  of  God  bear- 
ing the  unrighteousness  of  men.  How  shall  God 
both  reward  and  punish  at  once ;  reward  the  right- 
eous one,  yet  punish  the  substitute  of  the  unright- 
eous ?  Surely  righteousness  will  deal  mildly  with 
sin,  when  found  laid  on  one  so  righteous,  and  so 
beloved  for  his  righteousness  ?  It  will  mitigate  the 
penalty,  and  spare  the  beloved  one  ?  No  ;  it  does 
not.  It  will  not  admit  of  the  principle  that  sin  is 
less  sin,  or  less  punishable,  in  such  circumstances. 
Even  when  found  lying  on  the  most  righteous  and 
the  most  beloved  of  all,  upon  the  very  highest  per- 
son in  the  universe,  it  must  be  dealt  with  as  sin, 
and  punished  as  truly  as  when  found  upon  the  com- 
mon sinner.  There  must  be  no  exemption,  and  no 
mitigation.  How  terrible  is  the  righteousness  of 
God,  as  interpreted  by  the  cross  of  Christ  !  How 
infinitely  holy,  how  gloriously  perfect,  how  inexor- 
ably just,  is  the  God  who  gave  his  Son  !  His  love 
is  no  weakness,  no  good  nature,  no  easy  indifference 
to  wrong  and  right.  It  is  righteous  love  ;  and,  as 
such,  the  cross  proclaims  it  with  loud  and  most  un- 
ambiguous utterance.  All  the  divine  perfections 
are  seen  here  in  harmonious  glory,  mercy  and 
truth,  grace  and  justice ;  the  perfection  of  holiness 
combined  with  the  perfection  of  love.  A  righteous 
Judge  and  a  righteous  pardon !  Righteousness  for- 
giving, saving,  justifying,  glorifying  ;  taking  the  side 
of  law  in  condemning  i  in,  yet  taking  the  side  of  love 
in  delivering  the  sinner  himself. 

0  wondrous,  glorious  cross  !     Blessed  interpreter 


the  surety's  cross.  147 

of  God  to  us  !  Scene  of  the  great  self-manifesta- 
tion, the  great  revelation  of  the  mind  and  heart  of 
God  !  0  cross  of  Christ,  tell  us  more  and  more 
of  this  grace  of  God  !  Preach  reconciliation  to  the 
alien,  pardon  to  the  guilty,  assurance  of  God's  free 
yet  holy  love  to  the  dark  and  suspicious  soul ! 
Speak  to  our  hearts  ;  speak  to  our  consciences  ; 
pour  in  light ;  break  our  bonds ;  heal  our  wounds ; — 
all  by  means  of  thy  interpretation  of  the  divine 
character,  thy  revelation  of  the  righteous  love  of 
God! 


SERMON  XX. 

THE   SURETY'S   CROSS. 

"  The  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." — Gal.  vi.  14. 

III.  It  is  the  interpreter  of  law. — It  tells  us  that 
the  law  is  holy,  and  just,  and  good  ;  that  not  one 
jot  or  tittle  of  it  can  pass  away.  The  perfection  of 
the  law  is  the  message  from  Calvary,  even  more 
awfully  than  from  Sinai,  The  poioer  of  law,  the 
vengeance  of  law,  the  inexorable  tenacity  of  law,  the 
grandeur  of  law,  the  unchangeable  and  infrangible 
sternness  of  law, — these  are  the  announcements  of  the 
cross.  Never  was  there  so  terrible  a  proclamation 
of  law,  and  so  vivid  a  commentary  upon  it,  as 
from  the  cross  of  Christ.  In  the  crosses  of  the  two 
thieves  there  was  the  declaration  of  law,  but  not 
half  so  explicit  as  in  the  cross  of  the  righteous  Son 
of  God.  He  who  has  most  honoured  the  law  is  the 
one  whom  the  law  refuses  to  let  go  ;  nay,  whom  it 
compels  to  suffer  most.  All  his  life-time's  honour 
of  the  law  seems  to  go  for  nothing.  It  stands  him 
in  no  stead,  now  that  he  has  undertaken  to  answer 
for  the  sinner.  There  is  no  relaxation  of  law  in 
his  behalf.  Law, — unpitying,  relentless,  remorse- 
less law, — demands  from  him  the  double  debt;  first, 

the  fulfilment  of  all  its  precepts,  and  then,  the  en- 

148 


the  surety's  cross.  149 

durance  of  its  penalties  as  if  he  had  fulfilled  not  one 
of  its  statutes,  but  had  broken  them  all. 

Thus  by  the  cross  does  God  interpret  the  law  to 
us  ;  shewing  us,  with  divine  expressiveness,  what 
it  is,  and  what  it  can  do.  It  was  law  that  con- 
demned the  Son  of  God.  It  was  law  that  erected 
the  cross,  and  nailed  the  Sin- bearer  to  it.  It  was 
law  that  afflicted  him  and  put  him  to  grief.  It  was 
law  that  shed  his  innocent  blood.  Surely,  of  all 
the  many  illustrations  and  interpretations  which 
law  has  received  in  the  world's  history,  there  is 
none  like  this. 

By  the  cross  does  God  protest  against  all  at- 
tempts to  destroy  or  dilute,  to  mutilate  or  modify 
the  law.  Man  thinks  it  too  strict,  too  broad ;  nay, 
affirms  that  Christ  came  to  mitigate  it,  and  to  give 
us  a  salvation  founded  on  a  modified  law,  and  ob- 
tained by  our  obedience  to  such  a  law.  God,  in 
the  cross  of  Christ,  says,  I  do  not  think  so.  See 
yon  cross,  and  my  Son  upon  it,  bearing  the  law's 
penalty.  Would  I  have  made  him  to  do  so,  had  it 
been  too  strict  ?  Did  he  obey  too  much  ?  Did  he 
suffer  too  heavily  ?  Thus  in  the  cross  God  upholds 
the  law  as  well  as  expounds  it ;  protesting  against 
the  idea  that  the  gospel  is  just  the  law  lowered  and 
relaxed,  so  as  to  suit  our  fallen  state  of  being ;  and 
proclaiming  to  us  a  gospel  founded  upon  a  fulfilled, 
an  unmodified,  an  unchangeable  law. 

O  man,  read  the  divine  comment  on  the  law  as 
given  on  the  cross,  and  learn  what  sin  is,  and  what 
righteousness  is.     Man,  in  erecting  that  cross,  was 


150  the  surety's  cross. 

no  doubt  making  a  mock  both  at  law  and  at 
sin ;  he  was  refusing  the  love  of  God  as  well  as  the 
law  of  God ;  he  was,  like  Cain,  rejecting  the  sin- 
offering,  and  saying,  "  I  need  it  not."  But  God 
was  exhibiting  to  us  the  reality  and  the  darkness 
of  sin.  In  the  cross  God  was  condemning  sin,  and 
shewing  how  different  his  estimate  of  it  was 
from  that  of  man.  And  there  is  nothing  so  fitted 
to  convince,  to  overawe,  to  overwhelm  the  sinner 
as  the  sight  of  that  cross.  "  They  shall  look  on 
me  whom  they  have  pierced,  and  mourn."  It  is 
the  sight  of  the  cross  that  brings  a  man  down  to 
the  dust ;  that  produces  genuine  repentance, — godly 
sorrow,  such  as  law  alone  could  not  accomplish. 
Look,  then,  and  be  smitten  to  the  heart  by  the  spec- 
tacle of  the  Lamb  of  God  on  the  tree,  wounded  for 
our  transgressions,  bruised  for  our  iniquities;  "made 
under  the  law;"  enduring  the  curse  of  the  law,  that 
from  that  curse  we  might  be  redeemed. 

IV.  It  interprets  sin.— As  the  interpreter  of  law, 
it  is  necessarily  the  interpreter  of  sin ;  for  as  "  by 
the  law  is  the  knowledge  of  sin,"  so  that  which 
expounds  the  law  must  also  discover  sin.  The  cross 
took  up  the  ten  commandments,  and  on  each  of 
their  "Thou  shalts"  and  "Thou  shalt  nots,"  flung 
such  a  new  and  divine  light,  that  sin,  in  all  its 
hideousness  of  nature,  and  minuteness  of  detail, 
stood  out  to  view,  as  it  never  did  before,  "the 
abominable  thing"  which  Jehovah  hates.  Sin  was 
on  the  earth   before    Sinai's   thunder  awoke   the 


the  surety's  cross.  '  351 

desert  and  shook  the  camp  of  Israel.  But  it  was 
hidden,  or  but  dimly  seen.  As  the  war-rocket  sent 
up  at  midnight  shews  the  whole  ground  and  camp, 
so  did  the  blaze  of  Sinai  light  up  the  law  and  dis- 
cover sin.  There  was  sin  upon  the  earth  before 
the  Christ  of  God  died.  But  it  was,  with  all  the 
illumination  of  Sinai,  but  imperfectly  known.  As 
the  lightning  of  heaven,  more  potent  and  penetrat- 
ing than  the  most  brilliant  war-rocket,  bursting 
down  at  midnight  on  some  plain  or  valley,  lights 
up  the  landscape,  far  and  near,  so  did  the  heavenly 
glory  of  the  cross  unfold,  in  awful  vividness  and 
infinite  detail,  "  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin." 

It  shewed  that  sin  was  no  trifle  which  God  would 
overlook ;  that  the  curse  was  no  mere  threat  which 
God  could  depart  from,  when  it  suited  him.  It 
shewed  that  the  standard  of  sin  was  no  sliding 
scale,  to  be  raised  or  lowered  at  pleasure ;  that  the 
punishment  of  sin  was  no  arbitrary  infliction ;  and 
that  its  pardon  was  not  the  expression  of  divine 
indifference  to  its  evil.  It  shewed  that  sin  was  no 
variable  or  uncertain  thing ;  but  fixed  and  precise ; 
a  thing  to  which  God  was  pointing  his  finger  and 
saying,  I  hate  that,  and  that,  and  that.  It  shewed 
that  the  wages  of  sin  is  death ;  that  the  soul  that 
sinneth  must  die  ;  that  sin  and  its  fruits  and  penal- 
ties are  certainties,  absolute  certainties,  before  which 
heaven  and  earth  must  pass  away.  It  shewed 
that  sin  is  no  mere  misfortune,  or  disease ;  but  guilt, 
which  must  go  before  the  Judge,  and  receive 
judicial  doom  at  his  hand.  It  shewed  all  these,  when 


152  the  surety's  cross. 

it  shewed  us  our  divine  Substitute,  dying  the  Just 
for  the  unjust ;  God  lowering  none  of  his  demands, 
nor  abating  aught  of  his  wrath,  even  in  the  case  of 
his  beloved  Son. 

The  cross  shewed  us,  moreover,  that  the  essence 
of  sin  is  hatred  of  God ;  and  that  man  is,  by  na- 
ture, just  what  the  apostle  calls  him,  a  "  hater  of 
God"  (Rom.  i.  30).  The  law  had  told  us  but  the 
one  half  of  this.  In  saying,  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God,  it  pointed  to  sin  as  the  want  of  love. 
But  that  was  all .  The  cross  goes  farther  than  this, 
and  shews  us  sin  as  enmity  to  God,  and  man  as  a 
murderer  of  the  Lord  of  glory.  Is  not  this  a  dis- 
covery of  the  malignity  of  sin,  such  as  had  never 
been  imagined  before  ?  0  what  must  man  be,  when 
he  can  hate,  condemn,  mock,  scourge,  spit  upon, 
crucify,  the  Christ  of  God,  when  coming  to  him 
clothed  in  love,  and  with  the  garments  of  salva- 
tion ?  And  what  must  sin  be,  when,  in  order  to 
expiate  it,  the  Lord  of  glory  must  die  upon  the 
tree,  an  outcast,  a  criminal,  a  curse,  before  God 
and  man,  before  earth  and  heaven  ! 

V.  It  interprets  the  gospel. — That  good  news  were 
on  their  way  to  us,  was  evident  from  the  moment 
that  Mary  brought  forth  her  first-born,  and,  by 
divine  premonition,  called  his  name  "  Jesus."  Good 
will  to  men  was  then  proclaimed.  But  the  Substi- 
tute had  then  only  commence'1  Hs  mission  of  grace. 
Step  by  step  the  good  news  u^ulded  themselves,  as 
he  passed  over  our  earth,  doing  the   deeds  and 


the  surety's  cross.  153 

speaking  the  words  of  love.  But  not  till  the  cross 
is  erected,  and  the  blood  is  shed,  and  the  life  is 
taken,  do  we  fully  learn  how  it  is  that  his  work  is  so 
precious,  and  that  the  tidings  concerning  it  furnish 
so  glorious  a  gospel.  The  gospel  is  good  news  con- 
cerning a  divine  Sin-bearer;  concerning  that  death 
which  is  everlasting  life  to  us;  concerning  that 
blood  which  purges  the  conscience  from  dead  works, 
cleansing  sin,  and  reconciling  us  to  God.  The  cross 
is  reconciliation  between  us  and  God,  and  that  is 
good  news.  The  cross  is  the  bruising  of  the  heel  of 
the  woman's  seed,  and  the  bruising  of  the  serpent's 
head ;  and  that  is  good  news.  The  cross  is  the  ad- 
justment of  every  question  raised  by  law  and  right- 
eousness, by  God  or  by  conscience ; — the  righteous 
and  honourable  settlement  of  every  claim  that  can 
be  made  against  the  sinner.  And  that  is  good  news. 
The  cross  is  the  appointed  meeting-place  between 
the  sinner  and  God,  where  the  ambassadors  of  peace 
take  their  stand,  beseeching  the  wanderer  to  turn  and 
live,  the  rebel  to  be  reconciled  to  God  !  There  the 
covenant  of  reconciliation  was  sealed ;  there  peace 
was  made;  there  the  debt  was  paid;  there  the  ransom 
was  given.    And  are  not  these  glad  tidings  of  great 

joy? 

VI.  It  interprets  service. — We  are  redeemed  that 
we  may  obey.  We  are  set  free  that  we  may  serve, — 
even  as  God  spoke  to  Pharaoh,  "  Let  my  people 
go,  that  they  may  serve  me."  But  the  cross  defines 
the  service,  and  shews  us  its  nature.     It  is  the  ser- 


154  tiie  surety's  cross. 

vice  of  love  and  liberty  ;  yet  it  is  also  the  service 
of  reproach,  and  shame,  and  tribulation.  We  are 
crucified  with  Christ !  And  this  brings  out  our 
position  as  saints.  We  are  crucified  followers  of  a 
crucified  Lord.  We  are  crucified  to  the  world,  and 
the  world  to  us,  by  the  cross  of  Christ.  But  besides 
this,  we  have  to  take  up  our  cross,  and  bear  it.  It 
is  not  his  cross  we  bear.  None  but  he  could  bear 
it.  It  is  a  cross  of  our  own  ;  calling  us  to  self- 
denial,  flesh-denial,  and  world-denial ;  pointing  out 
to  us  a  path  of  humiliation,  trial,  toil,  weakness, 
reproach,  such  as  our  Master  trod.  Yes  ;  it  is  a 
cross  of  our  own  that  we  are  to  bear  ;  not,  indeed, 
of  our  own  making  or  seeking, — for  self-made,  self- 
sought  crosses  are  evil,  not  good, — but  still  a  cross 
of  our  own.  There  is  a  personal  cross  for  each, 
which  we  are  to  take  up  and  bear  ;  a  cross  which 
is  the  true  badge  of  discipleship,  the  genuine  mark 
of  authentic  service.  What  he  bore  for  us  is  done; 
it  cannot  be  borne  over  again  ;  the  cross  of  Christ 
is  not  for  any  but  himself  to  carry.  But  as  he  had 
a  cross  to  bear  for  us,  so  have  we  a  cross  to  bear 
for  him,  and  "for  his  body's  sake,  which  is  the 
Church." 

"  Follow  me,"  he  says  ;  and  we  cannot  but  yield 
to  the  almighty  voice.  He  draws  us  out  of  the 
world,  and  we  follow  him.  He  leads  us  in  at  the 
strait  gate,  and  we  follow  him.  He  guides  us  along 
the  narrow  way,  and  we  follow  hi  in,  our  cross  upon 
our  shoulder  and  the  crown  before  our  eye.  Smooth- 
ness, and  brightness,  and  greenness,  are  not  the  fea- 


the  surety's  cross.  155 

tures  of  the  narrow  way  ;  but  rather  thorns  and 
briars,  darkness  and  dust,  and  ruggedness,  all  along; 
fightings  without,  and  fears  within.  The  road  to  the 
Kingdom  is  not  so  pleasant,  and  comfortable,  and 
easy,  and  flowery,  as  many  dream.  It  is  not  a  bright 
sunny  avenue  of  palms.  It  is  not  paved  with  tri- 
umph, though  it  is  to  end  in  victory.  The  termi- 
nation is  glory,  honour,  and  immortality  ;  but  on 
the  way  there  is  the  thorn  in  the  flesh,  the  sack- 
cloth, and  the  cross.  Recompence  yonder  ;  but 
labour  here  !  Rest  yonder  ;  but  weariness  here  ! 
Joy  and  security  yonder  ;  but  here  endurance  and 
watchfulness, —  the  race,  the  battle,  the  burden,  the 
stumbling-block,  and  ofttimes  the  heavy  heart. 

In  entering  Christ's  service,  let  us,  then,  count  the 
cost.  In  following  him,  let  us  not  shrink  from  the 
cross.  It  was  his  badge  of  service  for  us  ;  let  us 
accept  it  as  ours  for  him. 

To  the  world  the  cross  is  an  offence  and  a  stum- 
bling-block. It  is  so  in  two  ways.  It  makes  those, 
who  have  taken  it  up,  objects  of  dislike  to  others  ; 
and  it  is  itself  an  object  of  dislike  to  these  others. 
Thus  while  it  unites  the  saints,  it  divides  them  from 
the  world.  It  is  the  banner  round  which  the  for- 
mer rally  and  gather  ;  it  is  the  mark  against  which 
the  arrows  of  the  latter  are  turned. 

For  there  are  "  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ," 
and  enemies  of  Christ  himself.  Of  them  the  apostle 
says,  "  their  end  is  destruction."  Thus  the  cross  is 
both  life  and  death,  salvation  and  destruction.  It 
is  the  golden  sceptre  ;  it  is  the  iron  rod.     It  is  the 


156  the  surety's  cross. 

Shepherd's  staff  of  love  ;  it  is  the  Avenger's  sword 
of  fire.  It  is  the  tree  of  life  and  cup  of  blessing  ; 
it  is  the  cup  of  the  wine  of  the  wrath  of  God. 

0  enemy  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  know  your  aw- 
ful doom.  Do  not  take  refuge  in  fancied  neutrality; 
reasoning  with  yourself  that  because  you  are  not 
a  scoffer,  nor  a  profligate,  you  are  not  an  enemy. 
Eemember  that  it  is  written,  "  He  that  is  not  for 
me  is  against  me  ;"  and  that,  "  The  friendship  of 
the  world  is  enmity  with  God."  That  cross  shall 
be  a  witness  against  you,  in  the  day  when  the  cru- 
cified One  returns  as  Judge  and  King.  The  early 
Christians  had  a  tradition  among  themselves,  that 
the  cross  was  to  be  the  sign  of  his  coming;  appear- 
ing in  the  heavens,  as  the  herald  of  his  advent. 
Whether  this  is  to  be  the  case  or  not,  the  cross  in 
that  day  will  be  the  object  of  terror  to  its  enemies. 
They  would  not  be  saved  by  it,  and  they  shall  perish 
by  it.  They  would  not  take  its  pardon ;  they  must 
bear  its  condemnation.  The  love,  which  it  so  long 
proclaimed,  shall  then  be  turned  into  wrath.  The 
glorious  light  beaming  forth  from  it,  to  light  them 
to  the  kingdom  of  light,  shall  then  become  darkness; 
their  sun  shall  set,  no  more  to  rise;  their  night  shall 
begin, — the  long,  eternal  night  that  has  no  dawn  in 
prospect,  and  no  star  to  break  its  gloom. 


SERMON  XXI. 

THE   CROSS   THE   EXPRESSION   OF   MAN'S 

UNBELIEF. 

"  They  cried,  saying,  Crucify  hirn  !  crucify  him ! " — Luke  xxiii.  21. 

Crucifixion  was  the  death  of  the  outcast  only,  the 
Gentile  outcast.  Stoning  was  the  Jewish  death, 
crucifying  the  Gentile  death,  or  rather  the  Roman 
death ;  the  death  devised  and  inflicted  by  the  fourth 
great  beast  of  Daniel,  when  exercising  his  power  in 
trampling  down  the  nation  of  God  with  his  iron 
feet.  "  Crucify  him,"  then,  meant,  Let  him  die 
the  worst  of  deaths,  the  Gentile  death,  the  death 
that  is  so  specially  connected  with  the  curse ;  the 
death  that  proclaims  Him  to  be  not  merely  an  out- 
cast from  Israel,  an  outcast  from  Jerusalem,  but  an 
outcast  from  the  Gentile,  an  outcast  from  the  race. 

He  to  whom  this  cry  is  directed,  is  a  Gentile 
ruler ;  and  it  is  striking  to  observe  the  Jew  hand- 
ins:  over  his  fellow- Jew  to  the  abhorred  Gentile,  the 
conqueror  of  his  city  and  nation.  With  what  a 
hatred  must  these  crucifiers  have  hated  their  victim, 
when  they  give  him  over  to  the  Gentile  to  have 
their  utmost  malice  executed  upon  him  ! 

He,  against  whom  thej^  thus  furiously  shout  forth 
their  bitterness,  is  the  Son  of  God ;  not  merely  a 


57 


158  THE  CROSS  THE  EXPRESSION 

holy  man,  but  one  in  whom  the  fulness  of  the  God- 
head dwells ;  one  who  has  been  sent  of  the  Father 
to  carry  out  his  purpose  of  love.  It  is  against  "  the 
Word  made  flesh/'  the  "  only-begotten  of  the 
Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth/'  that  the  cry  is 
raised,  "  Crucify  him  !  crucify  him  !  let  him  die 
the  worst  of  deaths;  not  this  man,  but  Barabbas." 
It  was  not  his  human  holiness  merely  that  excited 
the  hatred  and  the  outcry ;  it  was  his  divine  per- 
fection. It  wras  not  merely  man  hating  man  be- 
cause better  than  himself;  it  was  man  hating  God; 
man  seeking  to  rid  himself,  and  rid  his  wTorld  of 
God  altogether  ;  man  seizing  the  opportunity  he 
had  now  got,  in  having  God  in  a  human  form 
within  his  power,  of  making  away  with  Jehovah, 
as  the  Being  to  whose  absolute  dominion  he  would 
not  submit,  and  whose  presence  on  the  earth,  in 
human  form,  was  altogether  intolerable. 

"Who  wTere  they  who  raised  the  cry  and  made 
this  awful  demand,  in  the  name  of  justice  and  reli- 
gion, upon  a  Gentile  ruler,  for  the  death  of  the 
Son  of  God  ? 

They  were  the  Jews,  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem ;  not 
the  more  ignorant  and  irreligious  Jews  of  Samaria 
or  Galilee,  but  the  Jews  of  Jerusalem.  Nay,  and 
chief  among  these  haters  of  Messiah  were  the  men 
who  professed  most  to  be  looking  for  his  advent ; 
the  best  educated,  most  learned,  and,  according  to 
their  ideas,  most  devout  and  religious  of  the  nation. 
They  wrere  not  Egyptians  or  Persians,  or  Greeks  or 
Romans,  worshippers  of  false  gods ;  but  children  of 


OF  MANS  UNBELIEF.  159 

Abraham,  men  who  studied  Moses  and  the  pro- 
phets, men  well-read  in  the  Scriptures,  and  wor- 
shippers of  the  one  Jehovah.  They  were  the  choice 
men  of  a  nation  which  had  been  trained  up,  for  well- 
nigh  two  thousand  years,  m  trie  knowledge  of  God  ; 
with  whom  God  had  taken  infinite  pains, — to 
teach,  to  guide,  to  elevate,  to  keep  from  surround- 
ing falsehoods,  and  superstitions,  and  sins.  They 
were  a  people  that  knew  more  of  truth,  heavenly 
truth,  than  any  other  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
They  were,  beyond  comparison,  the  best  educated, 
most  enlightened  nation  on  the  earth.  No  blessing 
had  been  grudged,  no  miracle  withheld,  no  privi- 
lege refused,  no  cost  spared,  to  make  them  the 
nation  of  nations,  religiously,  morally,  and  intel- 
lectually, nay,  and  physically  as  well.  They  were, 
then,  the  best  specimens  of  the  race, — the  repre- 
sentatives of  humanity  in  its  best  estate, — the 
exhibition  of  the  natural  man,  improved  to  the 
uttermost,  by  knowledge,  and  law,  and  govern- 
ment, and  religion. 

It  was  to  this  people  that  Messiah  was  proposed, 
for  reception  or  rejection.  If  tliey  rejected  him, 
who  could  be  expected  to  receive  him  ?  If  they 
hated  him,  who  could  be  expected  to  love  him  ? 
If  they  treated  him  with  dishonour,  who  could  be 
expected  to  honour  him  ?  If  the  best  portion  of 
the  race,  who  had  been  expressly  separated  from 
the  rest,  and  divinely  trained,  in  order  to  be  ready 
for  his  advent,  refused  him,  what  could  be  expected 
of  the  worst ;  what  could  be  expected  of  the  race  as 


160  THE  CRO;S  THE  EXPRESSION" 

a  whole  ?  As  Gocl  gav3  Adam,  and  to  our  race  in 
him,  all  advantages  for  standing,  so  did  he  give  to 
Israel,  and  to  our  race  in  them,  all  advantages  for 
receiving  his  Son.  Yet,  with  all  these  advantages 
and  privileges,  they  rejected  him  !  "  He  came 
unto  his  own,  and  his  own  received  him  not." 
Their  cry  was  not,  "  Crown  him,"  but  "  Crucify 
him  ;•"  not,  Let  the  King  live  for  ever,  but,  Let 
him  die  the  worst  of  deaths. 

It  was  thus  that  man  rejected  Christ, — civilised 
man,  educated  man,  religious  man  !  It  was  thus 
that  the  natural  heart  spoke  out,  and  shewTed  the 
depths  of  its  enmity  and  atheism, — the  extent  of 
its  desperate  unbelief.  Yes,  it  was  the  unbelief  of 
the  human  heart  that  here  told  itself  out,  and 
cried,  "  Crucify,  crucify  !  " 

All  unbelief,  then,  is  rejection  of  the  Son  of  God. 
Whatever  be  its  evasions,  and  subterfuges,  and  ex- 
cuses, and  fair  pretences,  this  is  its  essence, — re- 
jection of  the  Christ  of  God.  In  thousands  of  cases 
it  does  not  reach  the  length  of  the  rejection  in 
Pilate's  hall ;  but  not  the  less  true  is  it  that  such  is 
its  true  and  ultimate  form  of  expression ;  that  to 
such  a  height  all  unbelief  is  tending,  and  would 
assuredly  rise,  did  circumstances  call  it  forth ;  and 
that  the  great  reason  why,  in  so  many  cases,  it 
does  not  ripen  into  this  awfulness  of  aspect,  is,  that 
man  is  not  so  directly  confronted  with  the  Son  of 
God,  face  to  face,  and  the  natural  heart  is  not  so 
explicitly  shut  up  to  the  choice  between  Christ  and 
Barabbas,   nor  so  immediately    and  peremptorily 


of  man's  unbelief.  161 

called  to  decide  upon  the  reception  or  rejection  of 
the  Son  of  God.  Were  the  natural  heart,  even  in 
its  best  estate,  called  upon  to  speak  out,  by  the 
demand  being  made  upon  it  for  immediate  and 
unreserved  affection  and  allegiance  to  Messiah,  it 
would  rise  up  into  the  same  awful  attitude  of  en- 
mity, and  manifest  its  unbelief,  in  the  same  terrific 
outcry  for  the  crucifixion  of  the  Son  of  God. 

And  why  this  desperate  rejection ;  this  feeling 
of  man  towards  the  Christ  ?  For  many  reasons  ; 
but  chiefly  for  this,  that  God's  religion,  of  which 
Christ  is  the  beginning  and  the  ending,  is  so 
thoroughly  opposed  to  man's  religion,  or  man's 
ideas  of  religion,  that  to  accept  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
would  be  a  total  surrender  of  self,  a  confession  of 
the  utter  absence  of  all  goodness,  an  overturning  of 
every  religious  idea  or  principle,  which  the  flesh  had 
cherished  and  rested  on.  In  such  a  case,  and  with 
such  an  alternative,  it  does  not  seem  so  incredible 
that  man  should  resist  to  the  uttermost  the  claims 
of  Christ  upon  his  faith  and  his  heart.  His 
alternative  is, — the  denial  of  self,  or  the  denial  of 
Christ;  the  rejection  of  his  own  claims  to  be  his 
own  saviour,  or  the  rejection  of  the  claims  of 
Christ;  the  crucifixion  of  the  flesh,  or  the  cruci- 
fixion of  Christ.  With  such  an  alternative,  what 
will  the  natural  unbelief  of  the  human  heart  not 
resort  to ;  and  what  but  the  almightiness  of  the 
Divine  Spirit  can  effectually  oppose  the  claims  of 
self,  and  prevent  the  most  daring  rejection  of 
Christ,   or  turn  that  rejection  into  a  cordial  and 


162  THE  CROSS  THE  EXPRESSION 

trustful  reception  ?  Nothing  else  will  overcome 
the  unbelief,  or  turn  it  into  faith  and  love.  Allow 
it  to  take  its  own  way,  and  run  its  course,  and  it 
will  end  in  the  crucifixion  of  the  Lord  of  glory.  It 
will  prefer  self,  the  flesh,  the  devil, — the  worst  of 
criminals  to  Christ.    "Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas ! " 

It  is  supposed  by  many  that  such  a  thing  as  the 
rejection  of  Christ  could  only  have  occurred  among 
uneducated,  uncivilized,  lawless,  irreligious  men. 
But  no. 

Education  will  not  hinder  rejection  of  Christ. 
They  who  crucified  Him  were  educated  men ;  not 
ignorant  and  brutal. 

Civilisation  will  not  hinder  rejection  of  Christ. 
It  was  the  civilised  Roman,  and  the  more  civilised 
Jew,  that  crucified  him.  Civilization  is  a  poor 
rampart  against  the  assault  of  man's  natural  un- 
belief. 

Law  will  not  hinder  rejection  of  Christ.  The 
Roman  is  the  representative  of  man's  law,  and  the 
Jew  of  God's  ;  yet  both  combine  to  reject  Christ's 
claims,  and  to  crucify  himself. 

Religion  will  not  hinder  rejection  of  Christ. 
Christ  was  crucified  by  men  who  had  more  of  what 
man  calls  religion  than  any  other  on  the  earth. 
They  prayed,  they  lasted,  they  gave  alms,  they 
multiplied  sacrifices  ;  yet  they  crucified  Christ ! 
It  was  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  religious  and 
respectable  men  of  Israel,  that  were  the  foremost 
in  rejecting  Messiah.  God's  way  of  dealing  with 
them,  as   announced    by  Christ,   was  so  opposed 


OF  man's  unbelief.  163 

to  their  ideas  of  the  way  in  which  they  ought 
to  be  dealt  with,  that  rejection  of  the  claims  of 
Jesus,  and  hatred  of  his  person,  were  necessary 
elements  in,  or  at  least  indispensable  deductions 
from,  their  religion.  How  often  among  ourselves, 
does  a  man's  religion,  or  religiousness,  or  ritualism, 
form  the  great  hindrance  to  his  reception  of  the 
gospel  !  It  is  not  Christ  that  is  his  religion  ;  it 
is  his  religion  that  is  his  Christ  !  This  being  the 
case,  the  Christ  of  God  cannot  be  prized,  or  loved,  or 
trusted  in ;  he  can  only  be  rejected,  hated,  crucified. 

This  rejection  of  Christ  shewed  itself  in  various 
aspects,  in  the  different  characters  and  events  de- 
scribed by  the  evangelists,  in  this  last  scene  in 
Jerusalem.  In  all  of  them,  however,  it  is  unbelief 
that  is  shewing  itself, — the  same  unbelief  that  still 
induces  opposition  to  Christ,  the  same  unbelief 
that  keeps  an  anxious  sinner  oftentimes  so  long  in 
darkness  and  distrust.  And,  as  we  judge  of  the 
real  nature  of  a  thing  best,  when  fully  developed 
and  carried  out,  so  we  learn  the  true  nature  of  all 
unbelief,  from  the  modes  in  which  it  expressed 
itself  at  this  great  scene  of  rejection,  enacting  at 
Jerusalem,  from  the  hour  that  Judas  sold  his  Master, 
up  to  the  moment  when  the  thief  railed  on  him 
from  the  cross. 

Look  at  Judas  then, — there  is  unbelief.  The 
traitor  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  unbelieving 
man  carrying  out  his  unbelief  in  betrayal  of  his 
Lord.  His  is  the  unbelief  that  treats  Christ  as  a 
piece  of  merchandise,   bought   and    sold  between 


164  THE  CROSS  THE  EXPRESSION 

man  and  man !  0  unbelieving  man,  thou  art 
Judas,  thou  art  the  traitor  ;  for  all  unbelief  is 
betrayal  of  the  Lord. 

Look  at  the  disciples  ;  "  they  all  forsook  him, 
and  fled."  Professing  to  love  him,  they  treated 
him  as  one  unworthy  to  be  suffered  for.  That  act 
of  forsaking  was  the  unbelief  even  of  the  converted 
man,  coming  out  and  shewing  itself  again.  Espe- 
cially in  Peter  do  we  see  it.  In  him  there  is  open 
denial,  and  in  that  denial  we  see  the  old  heart  of 
unbelief  again  speaking  out.  0  backslider !  re- 
member this,  all  unbelief  is  a  forsaking  of  the  Lord, 
a  denial  of  the  Master.  Say  what  you  will,  this  is 
your  crime.  You  think  you  are  not  so  bad  as 
Peter.  The  difference  is  only  in  degree,  hardly 
even  that. 

Look  at  Herod  ;  he  mocks  him,  and  sets  him  at 
nought.  Here  is  another  phase  of  unbelief.  0 
unbelieving  man,  thou  art  Herod  ;  thou  and  thy 
companions  are  Herod  with  his  men  of  war  ;  for 
all  unbelief  is  mockery  of  the  Lord.  Yon  say  you 
never  mocked  him ;  yet  that  unbelief,  if  unfolded, 
would  make  you  a  Herod. 

Look  at  the  Soldiers ;  they  scourge  and  buffet  him. 
There  again  is  the  natural  heart  acting  itself  out. 
These  indignities  and  wounds  are  but  another  utter- 
ance of  man's  enmity.  0  unbelieving  man,  thou 
art  the  executioner  ;  for  all  unbelief  is  a  buffeting 
and  scourging  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Look  at  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  Jewish 
crowds   that   demand    his   execution,  and  shout, 


of  man's  unbelief.  165 

"  Crucify  him  !  crucify  him  !"  There  is  the  evil 
heart  of  unbelief  giving  vent  to  itself.  These 
crowds  are  fair  specimens  of  the  race  ;  they  are 
no  worse  than  you  are,  0  unbelieving  man.  In 
like  circumstances,  you  would  have  said  and  done 
the  same  ;  for  all  unbelief  is  a  crucifixion  of  the 
Son  of  God.  Thou  art  the  Scribe,  thou  art  the 
Pharisee,  thou  art  the  vociferating  Jew  ;  it  is  the 
voice  of  thy  unbelief  that  cries,  "  Crucify  him  !  let 
him  die  the  death,  let  him  die  the  worst  of  deaths !" 

Look  at  the  thief  that  is  nailed  beside  him  ;  he 
rails  at  him  there.  Ah,  surely  unbelief  might  have 
been  silent  in  such  circumstances  !  Yet  no ;  even 
upon  the  cross  it  reviles.  0  unbelieving  man,  thou 
art  the  reviler  of  the  Son  of  God. 

Look  at  the  crowd  around  the  cross  ;  they  wag 
their  head,  and  taunt,  and  jest.  It  is  still  but 
man's  natural  unbelief  that  is  speaking  out.  0  un- 
believing man,  thou  art  the  taunter,  thou  art  the 
jester,  thou  art  the  mocker,  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth. 

Look  at  the  soldier  that  pierces  his  side,  after 
he  has  breathed  his  last.  He  is  determined  to 
make  sure  of  his  death.  Unbelief  will  not  bear  the 
thought  that  there  should  be  the  very  chance  of 
life  left.  0  unbelieving  man,  thou  art  the  soldier: 
it  is  thy  spear  that  is  drawing  out  the  blood  and 
water  ;  it  is  thy  unbelief  that  not  only  says,  Let 
him  die  the  death  ;  but,  let  us  make  sure  of  his 
death  ;  let  there  be  no  mistake  as  to  this. 

Learn,  then,  the  true  nature  of  all  unbelief;  its 
deceitfulness  and  desperate  malignity  ;  its  rooted 


166  THE  CROSS  THE  EXPRESSION 

hostility  to  Christ  and  to  his  claims  upon  man  ; 
its  determination  to  be  satisfied  with  nothing  but 
his  death  ;  its  resolute  rejection  of  his  person,  and 
work,  and  grace  ;  its  natural  and  unchangeable 
watchword,  "  Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas ; ' 
"  Crucify  him  !    crucify  him  !  " 

Nor  has  this  unbelief  anything  to  say  for  itself.  It 
cannot  be  accounted  for  by  anything  in  the  object 
presented.  "  They  hated  me  without  a  cause ' 
(John  xv.  25).  "For  my  love  they  give  me 
hatred"  (Ps.  cix.  5).  This  is  the  plain  statement 
of  the  fact.  The  object  was  most  loveable,  most 
trustworthy,  most  glorious  ;  but  man  would  have 
none  of  it.  Here  was  the  Being  who,  of  all  others, 
wTas  most  fitted  to  call  up  love  and  trust  ;  for  here 
was  the  only- begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace 
and  truth  ;  here  wTas  the  embodiment  of  divine 
love  and  loveableness.  But  God's  love  is  met  with 
man's  hatred ;  the  most  unambiguous  revelation  of 
divine  love  calls  forth  the  most  fearful  utterance 
of  human  hatred  and  unbelief ! 

0  man  !  can  that  heart  of  yours  be  anything  but 
evil,  which  thus  deals  with  God  and  his  love  ? 
Can  that  unbelief  of  yours  be  a  trifle  ?  Can  it  be 
anything  but  the  most  resolute  and  guilty  enmity; 
enmity  which,  though  it  may  often  slumber  for  a 
season,  yet  which,  the  moment  it  awakes  and  re- 
covers strength,  breaks  forth  in  mockery  against 
the  Son  of  God,  and  demands  his  instant  condemna- 
tion and  crucifixion, — "Crucify  him !  crucify  him !" 
Be  ashamed  of  it ;  abhor  it ;  cast  it  utterly  away. 


of  man's  unbelief.  167 

When  Christ  comes  again  in  his  glory,  how  will 
unbelief  appear  ?  It  will  be  seen  to  be  rejection  of 
the  Son  of  God, — rejection  the  same  as  Israel's. 
You  will  be  of  those  that  "pierced  him."  All  that 
distrust,  these  misgivings,  that  standing  aloof, 
will  be  seen  in  their  proper  character.  Your  un- 
belief brings  you  amongst  those  who  "  have  not 
obeyed  the  gospel,"  and  that  brings  you  under  the 
rod  of  him  who  comes  to  take  vengeance  upon  such. 
Christ  may  come  soon ;  but,  whether  or  not,  let  the 
thought  of  the  great  day  shut  you  up  to  immediate 
faith,  immediate  reception  of  Him  whom  Israel 
crucified. 


SERMON  XXII. 

LIFE   AND   FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH   DEATH. 


"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the 
ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone :  but  if  it  die,  it  bringeth  forth  much 
fruit." — John  xii.  24. 


It  is  strange  thai,  in  a  world  made  by  the  God  only 
wise  and  good,  there  should  be  such  a  thing  as  death. 
It  is  more  wonderful  that  this  death  should  come  out 
of  a  thing  so  glorious  as  life.  But,  beyond  these, 
there  is  a  wonder  greater  still, — that  life  should 
grow  out  of  death,  and  corruption  be  the  seed  and 
parent  of  incorruption. 

Yet  this  last  is  the  process  which  God  has  been 
carrying  on  in  our  earth,  since  the  threatening  took 
effect  against  Adam  :  "In  the  day  that  thou  eatest 
thereof,  thou  shalt  surely  die." 

It  needs  no  great  power  to  bring  death  out  of  life. 
Man  can  effect  that  without  an  effort.  But  to  bring 
life  out  of  death  needs  other  power  than  man's. 
Man  can  kill,  but  God  only  can  make  alive.  It  is 
the  Creator  alone  that  can  quicken  ;  and  hence  the 
apostle  sets  these  two  things  together  when  he  says, 
"  God  who  quiclceneth  all  things,  and  calleth  those 
tilings  which  be  not  as  though  they  were"  (Rom.  iv. 

17).      The  power  to  destroy  life  has  been  given  to 

168 


LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH  DEATH.        169 

the  creature  ;  but  the  power  to  impart  it  is  a  pre- 
rogative of  Godhead  and  a  function  of  Omnipotence. 
Thus  all  of  death  that  is  in  us  we  owe  to  ourselves, 
and  all  of  life  that  is  in  us  we  trace  solely  to  God, 
to  him  whose  name  is  "  Jehovah/'  who  not  merely 
is  King  "eternal  and  immortal/'  but  "who  only 
hath  immortality'1  (1  Tim.  vi.  16). 

We  can,  however,  go  a  step  farther  than  this  ; 
and  it  is  to  this  higher  point  that  the  apostle  leads 
us  when  he  says,  "  Thou  fool,  that  which  thou 
sowest  is  not  quickened  except  it  die '  (1  Cor.  xv. 
36).  These  words  are  peculiar,  and  the  thought 
embodied  in  them  is  not  one  which  man  has  ever 
owned,  far  less  originated.  The  apostle  is  speaking, 
no  doubt,  especially  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body, 
yet  in  so  doing  he  enunciates  a  wider,  more  univer- 
sal, and  more  subtile  truth, — a  truth  unacknow- 
ledged by  philosophy,  but  largely  recognised  in 
Scripture,  and  taught  by  many  natural  processes, — 
that  death  is  the  way  to  life,  that  the  dissolution  of 
the  lower  life  is  necessary  in  order  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  higher.  Yes  ;  this  is  the  sum  of  the 
divine  testimony  concerning  life  and  death  ;  that 
the  latter,  instead  of  being  the  destruction  or  ex- 
tinction of  the  former,  is  the  preparation  for  and 
introduction  to  it ;  that  the  ascent  from  a  lower 
kind  and  narrower  region  of  life  to  a  loftier  and 
wider  is  through  death.  This  is  the  narrow  isthmus, 
or  rather  the  subterraneous  passage,  through  which 
God  is  conducting  us,  from  the  bleak  coasts  of  this 
poor  moorland  lake  to  the  shores  of  that  fair  ocean, 


170  LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS 

whose  waters  spread  themselves  out  under  calmer 
skies,  and  break  upon  a  sunnier  shore. 

"  That  which  thou  sowestis  not  quickened  except 
it  die!'  Strange  words,  and  most  marvellous  truth ! 
Yet  the  apostle  speaks  as  if  this  were  one  of  the 
plainest  and  commonest  of  nature's  laws  ;  so  that 
a  man  must  be  a  fool,  if  he  has  not  read  that  law  in 
the  every-day  processes  of  sowing  and  springing. 
And  as  it  is  with  the  seed,  so  is  it  with  man  him- 
self. It  is  by  means  of  darkness  that  we  reach  the 
light.  It  is  by  falling  that  we  rise  ;  by  going  down 
into  the  depths  of  the  valley  that  we  find  our  way 
up  to  the  mountains  of  immortality  beyond.  It  is 
through  winter  that  we  pass  into  spring.  It  is  by 
dying  that  we  are  made  to  live, — live  for  ever  ;  for 
the  life  that  is  not  reached  by  death  seems  but  half 
secure.  The  life  that  lasts, — the  life  that  is  truly 
immortal  and  eternal,  is  only  obtained  by  dying. 
It  is  resurrection-life  that  is  the  truest  as  well  as 
the  highest  form  of  life,  the  surest  as  well  as  the 
most  glorious  immortality.  It  admits  of  no  reversal 
and  no  decay.  These  souls  of  ours  are  quickened 
to  an  endless  life,  by  having  first  passed  through  a 
death  of  trespasses  and  sins  ;  and  these  bodies  must 
go  down  into  the  grave,  and  there  be  dissolved,  that 
every  particle  of  mortality  may  be  shaken  out  of 
them,  ere  they  can  be  made  partakers  of  the  glory 
in  reserve  for  them.  They  are  sown  in  weakness, 
that  they  may  be  raised  in  power  ;  they  are  sown 
in  corruption,  that  they  may  be  raised  in  incorrup- 
tion.      It  is  the  grave,  the  abode  of  putrid  loath- 


THROUGH  DEATH.  171 

someness,  that  is  the  womb  of  the  undecaying  and 
the  undefiled.  John  Howe,  in  commenting  on  the 
expression,  "armour  of  light/'  exclaims,  "Strange 
armour  that  a  man  can  see  through  !"  so  may  we 
say  here,  "  Strange  life  that  is  the  offspring  of 
death  ;  how  unlike  the  child  and  the  parent  to 
each  other  !" 

Yet  we  shrink  from  death  and  abhor  the  grave  ! 
What !  "  are  we  afraid  of  becoming  immortal  ?" 
Are  we  reluctant  to  part  vvTith  weakness,  and  di- 
sease, and  corruption  ?  Do  we  refuse  to  enter  the 
porch  and  gate  of  life's  temple  ?  Are  we  dismayed 
at  the  prospect  of  going  into  the  robing  chamber, 
where  the  vestments  of  this  vile  flesh  are  put  off, 
anJ  the  raiment  of  a  glorious  immortality  put  on? 
Fools  that  we  are  !  Do  we  not  remember  that 
"  that  which  is  sown  is  not  quickened  except  it 

die  r 

But  our  Lord's  words  add  another  truth  to  those 
already  noticed  on  this  point.  It  is  not  merely 
life,  but  fruitj ulness ,  that  is  to  be  reached  through 
death  ;  so  that  death  is  the  parent  of  fruitfulness, 
and  to  retain  life  is  to  be  unproductive.  "  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you,  except  a  corn '  (or  grain) 
"  of  wheat  fall  into  the  ground  and  die,  it  abideth 
alone  :  but  if  it  die,  it  bringeth  forth  much  fruit." 
It  is  as  if  he  said,  Look  at  that  grain  of  wheat ;  it 
contains  in  it  both  life  and  fruitfulness  ;  but  these 
are  locked  up,  imprisoned  in  it ;  nor  can  they  be 
disengaged  or  set  loose,  so  as  to  unfold  and  multi- 
ply themselves,  save  by  death.     The  fruitfulness 


172  LIFE  AND  FRU1TFULNESS 

that  is  in  it  must  remain  all  folded  up  and  lost,  un- 
less death  come  in  to  break  up  its  prison  :  it  is  life 
that  is  keeping  it  from  living,  and  multiplying,  and 
replenishing  the  earth ;  the  outer  life  is  imprisoning 
the  inner,  and  not  till  that  outer  life  has  perished 
can  the  inner  life  flow  out  upon  the  world  ;  the 
germs  of  a  higher  excellence  are  so  closed  up  in 
its  secret  cells,  so  bound  together,  that  they  can- 
not expand  or  shew  themselves,  till  the  dissolution 
of  that  which  we  call  life  has  bidden  these  secret 
treasures  come  forth.  The  various  elements  of 
higher  being  and  powers  of  propagation  are  so 
wrapt  round  with  this  covering,  this  coating  of 
life,  that  ere  they  can  come  forth  deatli  must  do 
its  work,  breaking  the  Lars  of  the  prison-house, 
and  making  the  deep  cells  of  happy  life  to  give  up 
their  wondrous  inmates. 

Thus,  that  which  seems  to  us  the  destruction  of 
all  fruitfulness,  is  its  true  paternity.  That  which 
appears  to  dissolve  all  excellence,  to  wither  up  all 
beauty,  to  scatter  all  sweetness,  and  to  mar  all 
power  of  reproduction,  is  the  very  thing  by  which 
these  are  led  forth  from  inactivity  and  inertness  to 
do  their  work  upon  the  earth,  and  to  fulfil  the  end 
of  their  being.  Death,  which  is  in  itself  an  evil 
and  a  penalty,  is  yet  God's  instrument  for  opening 
prisons,  and  unloosing  chains,  and  disengaging  the 
higher  vitalities  and  perfections  of  being.  And  we 
cannot  but  notice  that  our  Lord,  having  thus  vin- 
dicated the  connection  between  productiveness  and 
death,  adds,  by  way  of  application,  "  He  that  loveth 


THROUGH  DEATH.  173 

his  life  shall  lose  it ;  but  he  that  hateth  his  life  in 
this  world  shall  keep  it  unto  life  eternal." 

Take  that  brown  rough  bulb,  and  preserve  it 
with  all  care  from  damp  and  frost,  and  the  foot  of 
the  destroyer;  what  is  the  result  ?  Nothing.  "It 
abideth  alone."  Whatever  may  be  its  treasures, 
they  lie  hidden.  But  cast  it  into  the  ground  and 
bury  it,  and  immediately  a  change  comes  over  it. 
Corruption  seizes  it.  Part  after  part  falls  off  and 
dies.  This,  however,  does  not  affect  its  inner  vita- 
lities, save  to  call  them  out,  and  send  up  to  man 
the  hidden  beauty.  It  shoots  up  in  its  greenness 
to  the  sun ;  leaf  after  leaf  unfolds  itself;  blossom 
after  blossom  comes  forth  from  the  mvsterious  re- 
cesses  in  the  mouldering  root ;  till  the  lily  itself 
waves  before  us  in  its  comeliness,  and  we  feel  "  that 
Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one 
of  these." 

Such  is  the  law  of  creation,  of  the  new  as  well  as 
of  the  old  creation:  through  darkness  to  light; 
through  death  to  life ;  through  corruption  to  fruit- 
fulness  and  glory. 

But  our  Lord's  words  primarily  and  especially 
concern  himself.  He  was  the  grain  of  wheat 
(sower  and  seed  in  one) ;  and,  as  such,  he  must 
fall  into  the  ground  and  die ;  for,  without  his  dying, 
his  coming  would  profit  nothing,  his  incarnation 
would  be  barren.  It  was  death  that  was  to  draw 
out  his  treasures,  and  unlock  the  storehouse  of  his 
unsearchable  riches. 

That  he  was  the  true  seed,  in  which  were  depo- 


174        LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH  DEATH. 

sited  all  life  and  fruitfulness,  a  few  passages  will 
shew.  "  It  pleased  the  Father  that  in  him  should 
all  fulness  dwell."  "In  him  dwelleth  all  the  ful- 
ness of  the  Godhead  bodily."  "  In  him  are  hid  all 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge." 

The  Christ,  the  Incarnate  Word,  is  the  one  divine 
depository  of  all  the  riches  of  Godhead,  whether 
the  riches  of  grace  or  of  glory,  of  wisdom  or  of 
power.  And  as  he  is  the  one  depository,  so  is  he 
the  one  channel  of  conveyance,  to  the  creature,  of 
all  this  fulness  of  the  everlasting  God.  He  is  to 
the  Creator  what  the  eye,  the  ear,  the  tongue,  the 
whole  bodily  frame,  are  to  the  creature.  He  is  the 
one  fountain-head  of  divine  blessing,  the  one  out- 
let of  heavenly  love,  the  one  medium  of  intercourse 
between  the  finite  and  the  infinite,  the  human  and 
the  divine.  The  invisible  becomes  visible  in  Him, 
and  he  that  hath  seen  him  hath  seen  the  Father. 
That  which  man  calls  development  is  a  reality  only 
as  connected  with  him ;  and  progress  is  but  a  name 
or  a  falsehood,  save  as  rooted  in  him.  Man  has 
many  Christs,  but  the  true  Christ  is  one. 


SEEMON   XXIII. 

LIFE   AND   FRUITFULNESS   THROUGH   DEATH. 


"  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Except  a  corn  of  wheat  fall  into  the 
ground  and  die,  it  abideth  alone :  but  if  it  die,  it  bringeth  forth  much 
fruit." — John  yii.  24. 


The  seed,  then,  is  divine ;  and,  as  such,  it  contains 
an  infinite  store  of  treasure.  But  this  is  not 
enough.  How  are  its  riches  to  be  made  available 
for  us  ?  Let  the  following  statements  be  consi- 
dered : — 

I.  Incarnation  is  not  enough. — No  doubt,  in  the 
incarnation  is  wrapt  up  the  love  of  God, — the  love 
of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  ;  and  the  simple 
announcement,  "  the  Word  was  made  flesh,"  "  unto 
us  a  Child  is  born,"  is  glad  tidings  of  great  joy. 
Still  there  is  something  awanting.  It  is  the  begin- 
ning, but  it  is  not  the  end.  Is  love  to  meet  with 
no  obstructions  ?  And  if  sin  opposes,  and  right- 
eousness opposes,  and  law  opposes,  what  is  love  to 
do,  or  how  is  it  to  reach  the  sinner  ?  The  Son  of 
God  might  take  flesh  and  dwell  among  us ;  but  this 
did  not  secure  life  for  the  dead,  or  pardon  for  the 
condemned,  or  salvation  for  the  lost,  or  victory  over 
man's  great  enemy,  or  honour  to  God's  broken  law 


176  LIFE  AND  FRULTFULNESS 

The  fountain  must  be  unsealed,  else  its  waters  are 
useless  ;  the  box  of  spikenard  must  be  broken,  else 
its  fragrance  will  not  flow  out  to  cheer  man's  faint- 
ing heart,  or  heal  this  world's  polluted  air. 

II.  Power  is  not  enough. — Love,  though  armed 
with  almighty  power,  finds  mighty  barriers.  It  is 
hedged  in  by  righteousness,  and  righteousness  is 
stronger  than  power ,  as  much  stronger  as  the  moral 
is  higher  and  greater  than  the  physical.  And  just 
as  God  cannot  lie,  so  omnipotence  cannot  conquer 
law,  or  set  its  provisions  aside.  Mere  strength 
cannot  come  to  the  judgment,  or  prevail  with  the 
Judge.  In  the  eye  of  law,  power  is  unknown  ;  in 
the  decisions  of  the  judgment- seat,  it  is  not  recog- 
nised as  an  element  at  all.  Power,  however  great, 
cannot  reach  the  criminal,  though  it  may  walk 
round  the  walls  of  his  dungeon,  and  try  its  energies 
against  the  massive  gratings.  Infinite  power  dwelt 
in  the  man  Christ  Jesus ;  and  this  was,  no  doubt, 
good  news."  But,  till  something  has  been  done  to 
cause  this  power  to  flow  out,  and  do  glorious  things 
in  righteousness,  it  is  unavailable  for  the  sinner, 
whatever  it  may  be  for  the  righteous.  The  vessel 
may  be  full,  but  there  is  a  wall  of  iron  between  it 
and  us." 

III.  Suffering  is  not  enough. — The  Son  of  God 
did  truly  suffer  ;  more  truly  and  more  greatly  suffer 
than  any  other  being  has  done  or  can  do.  His 
burden  of  grief  was  the  heaviest  ever  borne   by 


THROUGH  DEATH.  177 

man  ;  and  from  the  cradle  to  the  cross  he  was  the 
Man  of  sorrows,  the  suffering  One  both  in  body 
and  in  soul.  Yet  these  tears  and  groans  were  not 
enough ;  they  could  not  unlock  the  heavenly  trea- 
sure deposited  in  him,  nor  draw  forth  the  provision 
for  a  needy  world  contained  in  his  unsearchable 
riches.  If  any  amount  or  intensity  of  suffering 
could  have  done  this,  it  would  have  been  that  of 
the  man  Christ  Jesus ;  but  even  Ms  suffering  was 
not  enough.  It  was  part  of  the  process,  but  it  was 
not  the  whole.  Something  deeper  and  more  penal, 
something  that  had  in  it  more  of  condemnation  and 
wrath,  was  needed.  Only  such  suffering  as  ended 
in  death,  could  draw  out  the  life  and  fruitfulness 
wrapt  up  in  the  divine  seed. 

IV.  Holiness  is  not  enough. — At  his  conception 
he  was  "  the  holy  Thing ;"  and  during  his  life  he 
was  "the  holy  One;"  and  in  his  walk  on  earth 
there  was  seen  an  obedience,  which,  of  all  other 
obediences,  was  the  most  perfect ;  both  for  admira- 
tion and  example.  Yet  this  did  not  touch  the 
law's  inexorable  penalty,  nor  help  to  bear  the  legal 
curse.  He  that  would  save  us  must  be  a  substitute, 
as  well  as  an  example,  and  must  undergo  the  law's 
last  sentence,  ere  he  is  in  a  legal  condition  to  bless, 
or  to  pour  out  the  divine  love  on  us,  in  pardon, 
and  healing,  and  joy. 

V.  Death  alone  can  do  the  work. — The  love  that 
stops  short  of  this  effects  nothing ;  and,  however 

M 


178  LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS 

large  it  seems,  or  near  it  comes,  it  but  mocks  the 
sinner.  If  the  fulness  treasured  up  for  us  in  the 
"  Word  made  flesh"  is  to  come  forth,  then  he  must 
die.  There  must  he  the  pouring  out  of  the  soul 
unto  death.  Even  he  is  not  at  liberty  to  commu- 
nicate his  love  and  joy  to  us,  save  through  his  own 
death ;  his  death  as  the  payment  of  the  righteous 
penalty,  and  the  fulfilment  of  the  unchangeable 
sentence,  "  The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  He, 
though  the  true  wheat,  must  "  abide  alone,"  except 
he  die. 

He  has  died,  the  Just  for  the  unjust;  dying  the 
sinner's  death,  and  bearing  the  sinner's  curse. 
Thus  he  "  brings  forth  much  fruit."  All  that  made 
this  fruitful  One  barren  has  been  taken  away. 
Death  has  done  what  life,  in  all  its  divine  vigour, 
could  not  do.  Tn  the  sinner's  grave,  to  which  the 
Surety  went  down,  the  dissolution  of  legal  bonds 
has  been  effected,  whereby  the  fulness,  hitherto 
pent  up  and  imprisoned,  comes  forth  to  a  dead 
world,  like  spring  sending  up  its  warm  breath  and 
covering  earth  with  verdure. 

This  truth  is  not  here  spoken  for  the  first  time. 
It  is  the  truth  wrapt  up  in  the  first  promise  respect- 
ing the  woman's  seed,  the  man  with  the  bruised 
heel.  It  is  the  truth  to  which  Abel's  sacrifice 
pointed  so  explicitly.  It  is  the  truth  coming  out 
in  all  the  Levitical  sacrifices  and  rites.  It  is  the 
truth  uttered  by  prophets  :  "When  thou  shalt 
make  his  soul  an  offering  for  sin,  he  shall  see  his 
seed,  he  shall  prolong  his  days."     It  is  the  truth 


THROUGH  DEATH.  179 

announced  by  apostles  :  "Without  shedding  of 
blood  is  no  remission."  It  is  the  truth  to  which 
such  prominence  is  given  in  the  Apocalypse,  when 
the  Son  of  God  is  seen  as  the  Lamb  slain,  and  when 
the  saints  sing,  "  Thou  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by 
thy  blood."  It  is  this  which  the  apostle  Paul  had 
specially  in  view  when  he  interprets  the  tabernacle 
veil  as  meaning  "  the  flesh  "  of  Christ  (Heb.  x.  20). 
That  which  shut  out  the  worshipper  from  the  mercy- 
seat  was  the  symbol  of  the  body  of  the  Son  of  God ! 
The  veil,  which  was  hung  before  the  holiest,  said  to 
the  Israelite,  "  Godhead  is  within  ;  the  mercy-seat 
is  within  ;  the  glory  is  within  ;  but  there  is  a  hin- 
drance which  makes  them  at  present  unapproach- 
able. Ere  you  can  draw  near,  that  veil  must  be 
6  rent,'  and  then  all  is  open  ;  but  till  that  is  done 
there  is  no  access  to  God,  even  to  that  God  who 
has  come  down  to  make  his  dwelling  in  the  midst 
of  you."  The  flesh,  or  body,  of  Christ  said  to  every 
one,  "  Godhead  is  witlain ;  Jehovah  has  come  down; 
he  is  at  your  side  ;  but  ere  this  can  profit  you  that 
body  must  be  broken,  that  flesh  must  have  its  life 
poured  out." 

These,  then,  are  the  glad  tidings  which  we  bring. 
This  veil  has  been  rent  in  twain  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom  ;  the  way  is  open  for  the  sinner  ;  go  in  at 
once  into  the  holiest  ;  go  in  now,  go  in  as  you  are, 
and  stand  boldly  before  the  mercy-seat.  It  is  now 
the  throne  of  grace  for  you  !  Yes;  the  good  news 
to  the  sons  of  men  are  not  merely  that  the  Word 
was  made  flesh,  but  that  that  flesh  was  wounded. 


180  LIFE  AND  FRULTFULNESS 

that  body  broken  for  us.  The  good  news  are,  that 
the  corn  of  wheat  has  fallen  into  the  ground  and 
died.  Having  died,  it  has  not  merely  been  again 
"  quickened/'  but  has  itself  become  the  quickener 
of  the  dead.  It  is  death  that  has  imparted  to  it 
this  productiveness,  this  life-giving  energy.  It  will 
not  now  abide  alone;  it  will  bring  forth  much  fruit, 
and  that  fruit  will  remain. 

The  extent  of  this  fruit-bearing  we  do  not  yet 
see.  It  is  only  one  here,  and  another  there,  whom 
we  see  quickened  from  the  death  of  sin  by  the  all- 
vivifying  power  of  him  who,  as  the  last  Adam,  is 
made  a  quickening  spirit  (1  Cor.  xv.  45).  But,  in 
the  day  of  his  glorious  re-appearing ;  when  he  comes 
with  the  ten  thousand  of  his  saints,  those  who  have 
slept  in  him,  and  those  who  shall  be  alive  at  his 
return ;  when  he  comes  to  smite  Antichrist,  to  bind 
Satan,  to  deliver  creation  from  its  groans,  to  bless 
Israel,  to  be  a  light  to  the  Gentiles,  to  set  up  his 
righteous  kingdom,  and  to  make  all  things  new;  it 
shall  be  seen  what  he  has  done  by  dying.  In  that 
day,  when  he  presents  to  himself  the  Church  of 
the  first-born,  the  redeemed  from  among  men, 
without  spot  or  wrinkle,  a  great  multitude  that  no 
man  can  number,  we  shall  learn  the  extent  and 
excellency  of  that  fruitfulness  which  he  acquired  by 
dying.  Heaven  and  earth,  men  and  angels,  shall 
then  see  why  it  was  that  this  corn  of  wheat  fell 
into  the  ground  and  died. 

That  which  is   true   of  the   Head  is  true  also 
of  the  members,  though  in  different  manner  and 


THROUGH  DEATH.  181 

degree.  The  better  life,  both  of  soul  and  body,  is 
only  reached  by  death.  And  as  the  "quickening" 
comes  by  death,  so  does  the  fruitfulness.  It  is  not 
merely  the  "  eternal  weight  of  glory"  that  is  to  be 
wrought  for  them  by  their  present  affliction,  but 
their  fitness  for  future  service  as  God's  kings  and 
priests  ;  their  power  of  eternal  ministry  in  the 
kingdom  hereafter  ;  their  completeness,  both  of 
character  and  qualification,  for  the  unending  work; 
the  kind  and  amount  of  their  everlasting  success  ; 
in  other  words,  their  "  fruitfulness"  depends  on 
their  assimilation  to  their  Lord  here,  in  weakness, 
in  humiliation,  in  suffering,  and  in  death. 

Hence  we  sorrow  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope, 
as  to  their  life,  or  their  glory,  or  their  fruitfulness. 
Their  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God  ;  and  when  he 
who  is  their  life  shall  appear,  they  also  shall  appear 
with  him  in  glory. 

The  heathen  sorrowed  without  hope.  To  the 
philosophic  Athenian,  even  the  bold  Roman,  death 
was  gloom,  and  nothing  else.  There  was  no  hope 
about  it.  Their  Ely  si  an  fields  were  poor,  and  the 
prospect  of  reaching  them  a  sorrowful  uncertainty. 
To  them  death  connected  itself  with  no  hope,  no 
brightness,  no  triumph.  It  was  not  sunset  to  them ; 
for  that  bids  us  be  on  the  outlook  for  another  Sun. 
as  bright  as  that  which  set.  It  was  not  autumn, 
nor  winter  ;  for  these  speak  of  returning  spring  and 
summer.  It  was  not  the  seed  cast  into  the  rough 
soil  ;  for  that  predicts  the  future  tree  or  flower, 
more  beautiful  than  the  seed.     It  was  pure  and 


182  LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS 

simple  darkness  ;  all  cloud,  shadow,  desolation. 
The  death  of  childhood  and  youth  was  especially 
Litter  and  terrible  ;  nor  can  anything  be  more 
touching,  nor  more  expressive  of  the  "  sorrow  with- 
out hope,"  than  the  emblems,  which  we  still  find 
carved  upon  Grecian  or  Etrurian  tombs.  A 
shattered  pillar  ;  a  ship  gone  to  pieces  ;  a  race 
lost  ;  a  harp  lying  on  the  ground,  with  snapped 
strings,  and  all  its  music  lost ;  a  flower-bud  crushed, 
with  all  its  fragrance  in  it  ; — these  were  the  sad 
utterances  of  their  hopeless  grief.  The  thought 
that  death  was  the  gate  of  life,  came  not  in,  to  cheer 
the  parting  or  brighten  the  sepulchre.  The  truth, 
that  the  grave  was  the  soil,  and  the  body  the  seed 
sown  by  God's  hand,  to  call  out  all  the  latent  life  ; 
that  the  race  was  not  lost,  but  only  a  little  earlier 
won  ;  that  the  column  was  not  destroyed,  but 
transferred  to  another  building  and  another  city, 
to  be  "  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  God  ; '  that  the 
bud  was  not  crushed,  but  transplanted,  for  fuller 
expansion,  and  with  all  its  odour  unexhaled  and 
unimpaired,  to  a  kindlier  soil  and  air ;  that  the 
harp  was  not  broken,  nor  its  music  spilt  and  lost, 
but  handed  up  to  a  truer  minstrel,  who,  with  a 
finer  touch  and  heavenlier  skill,  will  bring  out  all 
the  rich  compass  of  its  hidden  music,  which  man 
would  not  have  appreciated,  and  which  earth  would 
but  have  spoiled  ; — these  were  things  which  had 
no  place  in  their  theology,  hardly  in  their  dreams. 
They  sorrowed  as  those  who  had  no  hope. 

But  the  death  even  of  the  ripe  and  aged,  was  to 


THROUGH   DEATH.  183 

them  a  thing  of  darkness  and  fear.  It  was  less 
strange  and  sad  than  that  of  childhood  and  prime  ; 
but  it  was  still  a  perplexity,  an  unsolved  mystery. 
And  do  we  not  sometimes  forget  that  this  mystery 
has  been  cleared  away  ?  Not  that  we  doubt  the 
personal  safety  or  blessedness  of  the  departed  heir 
of  the  kingdom  ;  but  we  speak  of  his  usefulness 
being  ended,  or  at  least  only  prolonged  here  on 
earth,  in  the  good  deeds,  or  good  words,  or  good 
report  which  he  has  left  behind,  and  by  which  he, 
being  dead,  still  speaketh,  and  still  is  useful.  Now, 
no  doubt,  that  which  the  text  calls  u  fruitfulness  " 
is  thus  carried  out ;  so  that  a  saint's  death  becomes 
a  thing  of  life  to  thousands,  and  a  saint's  memory 
becomes  as  fruitful  as  his  living  person  was.  But 
there  is  another  productiveness,  which  spreads 
itself  out  over  eternity,  and  which  death,  so  far 
from  destroying,  only  develops.  It  is  for  this  that 
he  is  educating  here, — for  this  that  he  is  under- 
going his  training  below,  and  serving  his  earthly 
apprenticeship.  The  fitness  for  service, — whether 
of  priesthood  or  of  kingship,  for  we  are  kings  and 
priests  unto  God,  the  power  of  working  truly  and 
successfully  for  God,  acquired  here  by  hard  expe- 
rience, during  years  of  doing  and  suffering, — these, 
so  far  from  being  lost,  or  superseded,  or  thrown  by, 
are  but  matured  and  unfolded  hereafter  ;  trans- 
ferred from  a  narrow  corner  here  to  the  spacious 
universe  of  God  ;  set  free  from  fetters  and  limits, 
to  spread  themselves  out  over  a  far  wider  range  of 
objects,    in   the  exercise   of  a  ministry,   at  once 


184       LIFE  AND  FRUITFULNESS  THROUGH  DEATH. 

priestly  and  kingly  ;  a  ministry  as  perfect  and  suc- 
cessful as  it  is  boundless  and  everlasting. 

No  man's  usefulness  ever  ends.  The  true 
becomes  truer  ;  the  powerful  becomes  more  power- 
ful ;  the  noble  becomes  nobler  ;  the  fruitful 
becomes  more  fruitful ;  the  successful  multiplies 
successes  ;  and  without  fear  of  reverse,  or  failure, 
or  discomfiture,  or  weariness,  the  liberated  saint 
rejoices  in  the  anticipation  of  an  eternal  future  of 
usefulness, — usefulness  in  all  respects  illimitable, 
usefulness  far  beyond  that  of  his  most  productive 
clays  on  earth.  The  corn  of  wheat,  before  it  fell 
into  the  ground,  was  comparatively  barren ;  but 
having  fallen  into  the  ground  and  died,  it  brings 
forth  much  fruit. 


SERMON  XXIY. 


THE    RISEN   CHRIST   AND   THE   THINGS   ABOYE. 


"  If  ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those  things  which  are  above, 
where  Christ  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  God." — Col.  iii.  1. 


The  word  "if "  is  not,  in  this  place,  expressive  of 
doubt.  It  does  not  imply  that  those  "  saints  at 
Colosse"  were  uncertain  as  to  whether  they  were 
risen  with  Christ.  Rather,  it  is  the  apostle's  way 
of  denoting  the  surest  of  all  certainties.  Thus  he 
uses  it  in  Rom.  v.  10,  "  If  when  we  were  enemies 
we  were  reconciled  to  God  ;"  and  in  verse  15,  "If 
through  the  offence  of  one  many  be  dead."  So  that 
more  truly  it  might  be  rendered  "since/'  as  assum- 
ing the  fact,  and  setting  it  down  as  beyond  all 
doubt. 

No  countenance  is  here  given  to  uncertainty  or 
non-assurance  on  the  part  of  a  saint,  as  if  he  were 
one  not  entitled  to  say  more  for  himself  than  "If 
I  be  a  saint."  The  gospel  does  in  no  way,  and  by 
no  word,  directly  or  indirectly  spoken,  encourage 
uncertainty,  or  give  us  leave  to  call  it  humility. 
The  result  of  a  believed  gospel  is  not  uncertainty, 
but  certainty;  not  trouble,  but  peace;  not  the  con- 
tinuance, but  the  expulsion  of  all  anxiety.     The 

gospel  presents  me  with  that,  in  believing  which  I 

185 


186  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

am  entitled  to  say,  "lama,  child  ;  forgiven,  saved, 
risen."  Such  is  its  nature  that,  in  receiving  it,  so 
far  from  being  brought  into  uncertainty,  or  kept  in 
uncertainty,  I  am  relieved  from  all  uncertainty  ; 
my  soul  is  set  at  rest.  I  am  not  only  warranted, 
but  commanded  to  claim  my  sonship.  My  not 
claiming  it,  my  standing  still  in  doubt  as  to  recon- 
ciliation between  me  and  God,  shews  that  I  have 
not  yet  fully  understood  the  freeness  and  meetness 
of  the  grace  which  the  gospel  makes  known.  For 
Gocl  here  presents  to  us  such  a  gospel  as  to  shut 
each  hearer  of  it  up  to  this  alternative, — either  to 
doubt  the  good  news,  or  enter  into  conscious  friend- 
ship with  himself. 

Sad  it  is  that  uncertainty  such  as  this  should  be 
so  common  amongst  us,  as  if  there  were  no  sin  in 
it,  no  blame  attaching  to  those  in  whom  it  exists  ; 
as  if  God's  sovereignty  would  account  for  it  entirely, 
and  as  if  man's  rooted  self-righteousness,  his  evil 
heart  of  unbelief,  were  not  the  true  and  real  cause. 

Yet -sadder  still,  that  man  should  be  contented  with 
this  uncertainty;  soothing  his  conscience  to  sleep 
with  the  idea  that  he  may  be  a  Christian  though 
he  has  no  assurance  ;  nay,  that  his  very  doublings 
are  the  best  evidences  of  his  faith  ;  as  if  unbelief 
could  be  the  fruit  of  faith,  or  distrust  the  offspring 
of  confidence  !  Surely  matters  have  come  to  a  low 
ebb  indeed,  when  such  is  the  case  with  us ;  not  in 
rare  examples,  but  in  instances  innumerable;  when 
assurance  is  the  exception,  and  doubting  the  rule  ; 
when  peace  with  God  is  strange  in  the  Church,  and 


AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.  187 

uncertainty  tinges  with  gloom  the  religion  and  the 
life  of  so  many  who  name  the  name  of  Christ. 

May  we  not  ask,  What  is  there  about  this 
uncertainty  so  attractive  and  loveable,  that  we 
should  fondle  it  so  tenderly,  and  cling  to  it  so 
desperately  ?  Does  it  bring  peace  ?  That  it  can- 
not do  :  for  its  very  nature  is  to  distract  and 
trouble  as.  Does  it  console  us  under  the  pressure 
of  life's  sore  calamities  ?  It  cannot  ;  for  it  is  itself 
our  heaviest  burden.  Does  it  heal  our  wounds  ? 
No  ;  it  is  daily  inflicting  wounds,  but  healing  none. 
Does  it  sweep  off  the  clouds  that  overshadow  us  in 
our  pilgrimage,  or  brush  aside  the  entangling  thorns 
and  briars  of  the  wilderness  ?  No  ;  it  is  itself  the 
thickest  cloud,  the  sharpest  thorn  that  can  wound 
us.  Does  it  raise  us  above  the  world,  or  make  us 
holier  men  ?  That  it  cannot  do.  It  drags  us 
down,  and  hinders  all  holy  walking.  Does  it 
enable  us  to  serve  the  Lord  more  truly  or  fervently  ? 
No  ;  it  keeps  us  in  dark  bondage  ;  so  that  thus 
chained  and  prisoned,  we  cannot  serve  him.  Does 
it  conform  us  to  the  image  of  God's  Son  ?  Ah, 
no  ;  in  him  we  see  the  true  filial  spirit  and  the 
devoted  life  ;  and  how  can  these  exist  in  us  so  long 
as  we  know  not  in  what  relationship  we  stand  to 
God  ;  so  long  as  we  are  uncertain  whose  we  are, 
and  whom  we  serve. 

If,  then,  uncertainty  be  such  a  thoroughly 
unprofitable  thing  ;  if  it  be  such  a  hindrance,  such 
a  sore  evil,  such  an  enemy  to  our  souls,  why  cherish 
it  as  many  seem  to  do  ?     Why  cling  to  it,  instead 


188  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

of  casting  it  away  ?  Why  not  abhor  it,  and  our- 
selves because  of  it  ? 

The  condition,  then,  of  a  saint,  is  one  of  certainty. 
That  certainty  is  this, — he  is  risen  with  Christ. 
It  is  not  that  he  ought  to  be  risen,  or  that  he  hopes 
to  be  risen,  but  that  he  has  risen.  This  is  the 
blessed  fact  that  forms  the  commencement  of  his 
history  as  a  saint.  This  event  stands  at  the  very 
threshold  of  his  career ;  nay,  constitutes  its  outset. 
His  life  is  the  life  of  a  risen  one.  His  story  is  that 
of  one  who  has  risen.  He  cannot  tell  of  his  change 
without  telling  of  resurrection.  He  cannot  speak 
of  his  new  course  and  conversation,  without  refer- 
ring to  resurrection.  He  cannot  account  for  the 
high  level  on  which  he  stands,  or  the  privileges 
which  encompass  him,  or  the  hopes  that  rise  before 
him,  save  by  tracing  all  these  back  to  this  one 
fountain-head, — resurrection. 

What,  then,  is  the  meaning  of  this  fact  or  event 
in  the  life  of  a  saint,  which  forms  the  commence- 
ment of  his  history?  It  cannot  in  any  way  be 
understood  of  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  which 
is  the  Church's  hope.  For  that  is  altogether 
future  ;  and  is,  besides,  connected  with  the  second 
coming  of  the  Lord,  whereas  this  is  connected  with 
His  first.  The  privilege  or  blessing,  pointed  at  by 
the  apostle  here,  is  something  'past,  something  which 
had  commenced  when  they  believed  ;  whereas  the 
resurrection  of  the  body  is  still  a  thing  for  which 
we  wait  and  long. 

Nor  does  the  apostle's  statement  simply  mean 


AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.  189 

that  the  resurrection  of  Christ  has  secured  to  us 
certain  blessings,  or  opened  a  door  for  us  into  the 
participation  of  certain  privileges,  or  made  sure  to 
us  the  title  or  right  to  certain  future  glories.  All 
this  is  true  ;  but  it  is  much  below  the  whole  truth, 
and  only  very  partially  expresses  the  apostle's 
great  idea  regarding  the  standing  and  privilege  of 
a  saint. 

He  is  telling  us  in  what  light  God  looks  upon 
the  soul  that  has  believed  on  his  Son,  and  therefore 
in  what  light  we  are  to  look  upon  ourselves.  He 
is  shewing  us  under  what  special  character  God  is 
dealing  with  us ;  on  what  footing  he  has  set  us ;  to 
what  extent  he  is  placing  to  our  credit  the  work  of 
his  Son ;  in  what  way  he  regards  him  as  our  com- 
plete substitute,  and  us  as  doing,  suffering,  passing 
through,  and  deserving,  all  that  he  did,  suffered, 
passed  through,  and  deserved. 

Hence,  pointing  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  he  says, 
that  cross  was  your  cross — "  Ye  were  crucified  with 
Christ,"  and  on  that  cross  you  endured  the  wrath 
which  you  had  incurred ;  you  paid  the  whole 
penalty,  so  that  there  is  not  a  farthing  of  it  remain- 
ing unpaid.  Pointing  to  the  death  of  Christ,  he 
says,  that  death  was  your  death — "  Ye  died  with 
Christ ;"  it  was  you  who  then  died,  and  in  dying 
met  the  full  demand  of  the  inexorable  sentence ; 
"The  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  Pointing  to 
the  grave  of  Christ,  he  says,  that  grave  was  your 
grave ; — "  Ye  were  buried  with  Christ ;"  there  you 
lay,  victims  to  the  law's  righteous  requirements, 


190  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

and  the  Lawgiver's  righteous  execution  of  these  in 
full ;  there  you  lay,  during  the  three  days  in  which 
your  Substitute  was  lying  there,  just  as  those  who 
have  refused  the  Substitute  shall  lie  eternally,  bear- 
ing the  penalty  which  no  time  can  cancel  or  ex- 
haust. Pointing  to  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  he 
says :  That  resurrection  was  your  resurrection  ; 
"  Ye  rose  with  Christ;"  having  exhausted  every 
claim  against  you,  and  paid  to  the  full  each  farth- 
ing of  the  righteous  penalty,  so  that  law  has  nothing 
now  to  insist  upon  against  you.  Yes ;  it  was  you 
that  rose  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  when  your 
Substitute  arose.  In  rising,  you  leff  behind  you  in 
the  grave  all  the  guilt  that  laid  you  there.  It  was 
the  prisoners  dungeon  in  which  you  were  laid ;  but 
you  have  come  forth  from  it,  because  the  reasons 
why  you  entered  it  no  longer  exist.  It  was  law 
that  chained  you  there,  and  it  is  the  same  law  that 
now  unchains  you ;  because  it  has  nothing  now  to 
say  against  you.  It  was  righteousness  that  cast  you 
into  that  prison,  and  barred  its  gates  against  your 
return  from  it;  and  it  is  the  same  righteousness 
that  has  brought  you  forth  in  triumph,  having 
found  far  more  and  stronger  reasons  for  your  de- 
liverance than  for  your  imprisonment.  You  have 
thus  come  forth  from  the  cell  to  which  your  trans- 
gressions had  consigned  you ;  and  not  as  one  that 
has  evaded  justice,  but  as  one  who  has  satisfied  it 
to  the  full,  having  given  it  far  more  than  it  sought. 
You  have  come  forth,  not  with  the  felon's  brand 
upon  you,  not  with  the  shame  and  stigma  of  your 


AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.  191 

former  life,  to  darken  and  disgrace  you,  but  as  one 
risen  to  a  new  life  altogether ;  a  new  life  in  the  eye 
of  righteousness,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  and  in  the 
eye  of  God ;  as  one  entirely  severed  from  his  former 
self;  between  whose  present  and  former  self  there 
is  such  a  great  gulf  fixed  that  he  is  entitled  to  say, 
I  am  no  longer  the  same  individual,  I  have  acquired 
a  new  personality,  a  new  legal  identity. 

The  mighty  truth  here  taught  is,  in  fact,  just 
this  :  Being  identified  with  our  Substitute  in  death, 
ice,  i.  e.,  our  former  self,  perished.  That  death 
destroyed  our  identity  ;  it  cut  the  legal  link  for 
ever  between  our  present  and  our  former  selves,  so 
that  law  cannot  identify  us  as  the  individuals 
against  whom  it  thought  to  urge  its  overwhelming 
claims.  It  is  baffled  ;  it  is  brought  to  a  stand;  and 
to  every  one  of  its  charges  we  can  confidently  plead 
"  not  guilty,"  on  the  score  of  not  being  the  same 
individuals  against  whom  the  charges  are  laid. 
Again  ;  being  identified  with  our  Substitute  in 
resurrection,  a  new  personality  has  been  formed  ; 
a  new  individuality  has  been  established  in  law; 
and  it  is  on  the  footing  of  that  new  personality, 
that  new  individuality,  that  we  stand,  and  bid 
defiance  to  every  accusation  that  the  law  without, 
or  conscience  within,  can  press  against  us. 

In  believing,  this  identification  between  us  and 
our  Surety  took  place.  In  believing,  we  became 
legally  one  with  Him,  in  death  and  resurrection  ; 
that  is,  we  died  and  rose  again.  In  believing,  the 
mighty  legal   spell  was  wrought,  the  mighty  legal 


192  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

miracle  was  accomplished,  whereby  our  former  self 
passed  entirely  away,  and  a  new  self  came  up  into 
glorious  being. 

Nor  is  this  new  personality  a  mere  figure,  or 
Actio1  ,  or  romance.  Those  who  never  realised  the 
moment ousness  of  that  central  doctrine  of  the 
Word  of  God,  the  substitution  of  the  righteous  for 
the  unrighteous,  nor  tasted  the  peace  which  comes 
from  the  knowledge  of  that  substitution,  may  say 
that  this  is  but  a  figure.  But  they  who  feel  that 
this  legal  transference  of  guilt  from  themselves  to 
their  Surety  lies  at  the  root  of  all  their  peace  and 
hope,  will  neither  be  stumbled  at  the  apostle's 
statement  in  our  text,  nor  look  upon  it  as  the 
mere  boldness  of  figure.  For  whatever  difficulty 
there  may  be  in  understanding  the  nature  of  the 
transaction,  or  the  very  manner  in  which  it  is 
accomplished,  still  the  thing  itself  is  sure,  and  its 
results,  in  so  far  as  God  and  we  are  concerned,  are 
of  the  most  real  and  blessed  kind. 

It  is  on  this  new  legal  personality  that  God  acts 
in  his  treatment  of  us.  It  is  on  this  ground  that 
he  confers  his  favour,  and  pours  out  his  blessings. 
He  deals  with  us,  not  according  to  what  we  were, 
but  according  to  what  we  have  now  become,  in  con- 
sequence of  our  oneness  with  him  in  whom  his  soul 
delighteth.  This  oneness  is  our  claim  for  blessing. 
This  is  the  plea  which  we  present,  and  which  we 
know  God  rejoices  to  accept. 

Why,  then,  should  there  be  such  unwillingness 
to  identify  ourselves  with  the  Son  of  God  ?     Is 


AND  THE  TIFfXGS  ABOVE.  198 

oneness  with  him  a  thing  so  shameful,  or  so  ter- 
rible ?  Is  our  own  identity  so  precious  a  thing 
that  we  are  unwilling  to  part  with  it,  and  to  sink 
it  in  his  ?  Surely  this  cannot  be.  What  can  be 
more  blessed  than  to  lose  ourselves  in  him  ;  to  be 
so  completely  identified  with  him  that  the  law  and 
the  Lawgiver  should  treat  us  as  entirely  one  ! 
What  can  give  our  souls  a  surer  resting-place  than 
the  knowledge  that  this  treatment  of  us  is  the 
very  thing  that  magnifies  the  righteousness  of 
Jehovah,  and  enhances  the  glory  of  his  incarnate 
Son! 


N 


SEEMON  XXV. 

THE   RISEN   CHRIST   AND   THE   THINGS   ABOYE. 

"If  ye  then  be  risen  with   Christ,  seek  those  things  which  are  above 
where  Christ  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God." — Col.  iii.  1. 

This  new  identity  or  new  self  is  not  a  thing  gradually 
formed  ;  wrought  out  step  by  step  as  we  advance 
in  likeness  to  Christ ;  it  is  not  a  thing  dependent 
upon  our  graces,  a  thing  which  is  more  or  less 
complete,  as  we  are  more  or  less  holy  men  ;  it  is  a 
thing  of  state,  not  of  character  ;  a  thing  of  law,  not 
of  moral  fitness  ;  it  is  therefore  formed  at  once, — 
the  moment  that  we  believe.  Then  we  become 
one  with  a  dying  and  rising  Saviour  ;  as  truly 
and  thoroughly  one  with  him  as  we  shall  ever  be 
during  a  whole  long  life  of  holy  doings.  In  believ- 
ing, we  are  crucified  with  Christ  ;  we  die,  and 
are  buried  with  him.  Thus  our  former  self  is 
gone.  It  perishes.  Twice  over  it  is  declared  to 
be  gone  ;  once  on  the  cross,  and  a  second  time 
in  the  grave  of  Christ.  Then  we  rise  to  a  new 
life,  and  acquire  a  new  self, — a  new  personality. 
We  come  forth  out  of  the  grave,  where  we  had 
been  buried  with  Christ,  new  men  ;  not  the  same 
individuals  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  but  others  alto- 
gether. We  obtain  a  new  life,  a  risen  life,  a  life 
194 


THE  RISEN  CHRIST  AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.       195 

corresponding  to  that  of  him  who  rose  as  well  as 
died,  who  was  not  only  delivered  for  our  offences, 
but  raised  again  for  our  justification.  We  are 
risen  with  Christ.  He  is  the  risen  Head,  and  we 
the  risen  members.  "  We  are  risen  with  Christ  l" 
It  is  not  merely  that  we  are  forgiven,  reconciled, 
justified,  but  we  have  entered  on  a  new  and  more 
elevated  condition  of  being,  a  resurrection-life,  a 
life  which  is  truly  the  earnest  and  anticipation  of 
the  glorious  state  of  being  which  is  finally  to  be 
ours  in  the  day  when  this  mortal  shall  put  on  im- 
mortality, and  death  be  swallowed  up  in  victory. 
This  resurrection-life  let  us  realise  as  already  ours; 
ours  in  right  and  title  now,  soon  to  be  ours  in  reality, 
when  He  who  is  our  life  shall  appear. 

The  expression  "  with  Christ,"  which  the  apostle 
uses  here,  is  one  which  applies  to  much  more  than 
to  resurrection.  All  that  we  receive  we  receive 
with  Christ  :  in  conjunction  with  him  ;  as  sharers 
with  him  in  what  he  has  received  from  the  Father. 
We  are  not  simply  said  to  receive  blessings  from 
Christ  or  from  the  Father  for  Christ's  sake,  but  to 
receive  them  from  the  Father  as  joint-possessors, 
joint-claimants,  joint- heirs  with  the  Son.  "We 
are  made  'partakers  of  Christ,"  that  is,  made  fellow- 
sharers,  fellow-partners  with  him  in  all  that  he  is 
and  has.  He  is  ours,  and  all  that  he  has  is  ours. 
The  love  wherewith  the  Father  loves  him,  the 
blessedness  with  which  the  lather  has  blest  him, 
the  honour  with  which  the  Father  has  honoured 
him, — all  this  he  shares  with  us  as  being  one  with 


196  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

him  ;  the  members  of  his  body  ;  the  bride  in  whose 
love  he  rejoices. 

And  as  it  is  on  this  oneness  between  us  and 
Christ  that  God  acts  in  his  treatment  of  us,  so  it  is 
upon  this  that  we  are  to  act  continually  in  our 
intercourse  with  him,  and  in  our  whole  life  on 
earth.  Our  life  is  to  be  the  life  of  risen  ones. 
Our  whole  walk  and  conversation  are  to  be  those 
of  men  wrho  feel  that  thev  have  died  and  risen,  and 
that  in  this  sense  also  they  have  become  new 
creatures  in  Christ  Jesus ;  old  things  having  passed 
away,  and  all  things  having  become  new. 

It  is  to  this  that  the  apostle  refers  in  the  words 
of  our  text,  when  he  says,  "  If  ye  then  be  risen 
with  Christ,  seek  those  things  that  are  above,  where 
Christ  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God,"  as  if  he 
would  remind  us  that  they  who  have  died  with 
Christ  have  died  to  all  things  beneath  ;  and  that  they 
wrho  have  risen  with  Christ  have,  by  their  new  life, 
been  brought  into  connection  with  things  above. 
Their  death  with  Christ  severed  for  ever  the  tie  to 
earthly  things  ;  their  resurrection  with  Christ 
fastened  at  once  and  for  ever  a  new  tie  which  links 
them  to  what  is  heavenly  ;  their  former  connection 
with  what  is  earthly  has  ceased,  and  a  new  connec- 
tion has  begun  with  heavenly  things  ;  they  are  to 
be  not  so  much  dwellers  upon  the  earth  as  inhabi- 
tants in  heave:.,  like  angels  come  down  to  visit 
earth  on  some  gracious  errand,  yet  still  mindful  of 
their  own  proper  home,  their  true  descent,  and 
rank,   and    character.      "  Our    conversation    is    in 


AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.  197 

heaven,  whence  we  look  for  the  Saviour,  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  And  if  our  conversation  is  in 
heaven,  should  not  everything  about  us,  everything 
said  or  done  by  us,  correspond  to  this  dignity  ? 

What  have  Christ's  risen  ones  to  do  with  the 
vanities,  or  pomps,  or  pleasures  of  earth  ?  The 
world  has  its  own  followers,  and  these  things  are 
for  them  !  But  for  us  who  are  risen  with  Christ, 
there  are  other  things  provided.  We  have  other 
company,  other  joys,  other  hopes.  Earth  has  too 
long  detained  us  ;  heaven  is  now  the  home  of  our 
souls. 

Seek  the  things  that  are  above  !  Do  we  not 
need  the  counsel  ?  Are  not  our  eyes  ever  turning 
downwards  ?  Are  we  not,  like  Lot's  wife,  too 
often  looking  back,  remembering  that  Sodom  out 
of  which  we  have  been  taken  ?  And  what  attrac- 
tion do  we  find  there,  so  fascinating,  so  irresistible, 
that  we  experience  such  difficulty  in  looking 
upwards  ?  Is  the  bleak  desert  fairer  than  the  blue 
starry  heavens  ?  Is  the  society  of  the  world  better 
than  the  companionship  of  angels  and  saints,  nay, 
of  God  and  Christ  and  the  eternal  Comforter  ? 
Strange  that  we  should  need  a  command  to  do 
what  seems  so  natural,  so  unavoidable,  so  blessed  ! 
Yet  we  do  require  the  command  ;  and  that  not 
once  in  a  lifetime,  when  some  sore  temptation 
besets  us,  but  each  day  and  hour  !     * 

Seek  the  things  that  are  above  !  Heaven  and 
the  things  of  heaven  ;  God  and  Christ,  and  the 
angels,  and  the  saints,  the  kingdom,  the  city,  the 


198  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

glory,  the  crown ; — these  are  all  above,  and  these 
are  our  treasures  ;  why  then  should  we  still  cling 
to  earth  and  mind  the  things  below  ? 

Love  not  the  world  !  for  if  we  love  this  world 
we  cannot  love  the  world  to  come  ;  if  we  love  the 
world,  we  cannot  love  the  Father  ;  if  we  love  the 
world,  we  cannot  seek  the  things    above.      The 
friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God,  and 
therefore  companionship  with   the  things   of  the 
world  cannot  fail  to  hinder  us  from    setting  our 
affection  on  the  things  above.     There  must  be  no 
compromise,  no  lingering,  no  half-heartedness.    All 
must  be  decided  ;  for  what  can  be  more  expressive 
of  decision  and  unwavering  consistency  than  the 
idea  of  our  being  actually  risen  men  !     This  sets 
aside  all  vain  excuses,  all  idle  pleas  for  mingling 
with  the  world.     Either  you  are  risen,  or  you  are 
not  risen.     If  you  are  not  risen,  then,  of  course, 
there  can  be  no  appeal  of  this   kind  to  the  con- 
science at  all.     Go  on  in  your  worldliness  ;  fling 
yourselves  headlong  into   the   torrent    of  earth's 
vanities  ;  but  know  that  the  end  of  these  things  is 
death  !     But  if  you  are  risen,  then  there  is  an  end 
of  all  debate.     The  point  is  settled.     You  cannot 
take  part  with  the  world  in  its  follies,  and  gaieties, 
and    sins !     What,   risen   with    Christ  and  yet  a 
worldling  !     Impossible.     Risen   with  Christ,   yet 
singing  its  idle  songs,  hurrying  through  its  mazy 
dance,  partaking  in  its  mirth  and  revelry  !     Impos- 
sible.    If  you   be   risen  with  Christ  there  is  no 
alternative  ;  you  mud  seek  the  things  above. 


AND  THE  THINGS  ABOVE.  199 

The  apostle  evidently  takes  this  for  granted; 
that  there  is  no  alternative  in  such  a  case.  The 
unrisen  may  seek  the  things  below,  but  the  risen 
mud  seek  the  things  above.  The  unrisen  may 
linger  amid  the  vanities  of  earth,  but  the  risen 
must  set  their  affection  on  the  things  of  heaven  ! 

The  things  that  are  above,  are  those  on  which 
our  eye,  our  heart,  our  hopes,  are  resting;  we  are 
seated  with  Christ  in  heavenly  places,  and  hence 
our  delight  in  the  things  connected  with  these ' 
heavenly  places ;  we  are  come  to  mount  Sion,  to 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  gene- 
ral assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born,  which 
are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all, 
and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  to 
Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  New  Covenant.  And 
having  come  to  these,  we  are  conversant  with 
these  ;  we  live  amongst  these ;  we  realise  these 
more  truly  than  the  things  around,  which  we  hear, 
and  see,  and  handle.  These  are  the  scenes,  and 
sights,  and  sounds,  that  occupy  our  souls  !  We 
have  ceased  to  be  citizens  of  earth's  polluted  cities  ; 
we  are  citizens  of  the  New  Jerusalem  which  cometh 
down  out  of  heaven  from  God.  We  have  ceased  to 
be  inhabitants  of  earth ;  we  have  become  the  inha- 
bitants of  heaven.  We  have  ceased  to  call  any- 
thing on  earth  our  own,  for  we  are  heirs  of  God 
and  joint-heirs  with  Christ,  so  that  all  things  are 
our  heritage ;  as  it  is  written,  "He  that  overcometh 
shall  inherit  all  things."    We  have  a  home,  but  not 


200  THE  RISEN  CHRIST 

in  the  palaces  or  haunts  of  the  world ;  a  house  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens. 

The  things  that  are  above  are  the  real  and  the 
enduring  ;  therefore  we  seek  them,  for  all  below  is 
shadowy  and  transient;  passing  away  like  the 
morning  cloud.  The  things  that  are  above  are  the 
things  congenial  to  our  risen  natures,  therefore  we 
seek  them.  All  other  things  are  repulsive,  not 
attractive,  because  unsuitable  and  uncongenial; 
they  have  nothing  in  common  with  us,  nor  we  with 
them.  The  things  that  are  above  are  the  satisfy- 
ing and  gladdening,  and  therefore  we  seek  them. 
Nothing  here  can  fill  us,  nor  impart  one  hour's  real 
enjoyment.  But  the  things  above  both  fill  and 
gladden ;  we  feel,  even  in  the  anticipation  of  them, 
far  more  of  rest  and  peace  diffusing  themselves 
through  our  souls  than  in  the  full  poss&ssion  of  what 
the  world  calls  joy.  The  things  that  are  above  are 
the  infinite  and  eternal.  All  else  are  narrow  and 
limited;  the v  have  at  the  most  but  a  life- time's 
duration ;  no  more.  But  the  things  above  have  no 
limit  either  as  to  space  or  time.  All  connected 
with  them  is  illimitable;  so  that  we  can  look  for- 
ward to  an  enjoyment  of  them  which  fades  not, 
and  changes  not,  and  shall  never  end  !  Of  this  we 
have  the  earnest  already,  and  the  reality  will  not  be 
long  behind.  It  only  awaits  the  coming  of  Him 
who  is  to  shake  the  things  that  can  be  shaken,  in 
order  that  those  things  which  cannot  be  shaken 
may  remain. 

The  things  that  are  above  are  thus  those  round 


AND  TlIE  THINGS  ABOVE.  201 

which  all  our  hopes  and  joys  are  daily  gathering. 
They  are  our  portion,  our  heritage,  our  treasure. 
What  have  we  upon  earth  to  compare  with  them, 
or  to  desire  beside  them  ?  Day  by  day  they  are 
gathering  more  of  our  hopes  and  joys.  One  by 
one  the  affections  of  earth  are  loosening  from  the 
things  of  earth,  and  fastening  themselves  to  the 
kingdom  that  is  to  come.  One  by  one  the  objects 
of  endearment  here  are  detached  from  us  and  pass 
upwards,  becoming  part  of  the  things  above.  We 
begin  to  feel  as  if  heaven  contained  far  more  of  our 
heart's  affections  than  earth ;  and  as  if  the  com- 
mand to  seek  the  things  above  were  becoming 
easier  and  more  natural,  seeing  we  have  so  many 
fewer  objects  now  to  love  on  earth,  so  many  more 
to  love  in  heaven.  And  as  flower  after  flower  is 
transplanted  from  the  wilderness  below  to  the  para- 
dise above,  we  feel  as  if  that  paradise  were  assum- 
ing more  and  more  truly  the  aspect  of  our  real  and 
proper  home  ;  the  home  of  our  kindred,  and  the 
home  of  our  hearts  ;  the  home  into  which  no  foe 
shall  enter,  and  out  of  which  no  friend  departeth  ; 
the  home  where  the  shadow  never  falls,  but  where 
the  sunshine  ever  rests  ;  where  the  Lamb  that  is 
in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  lead  us  to  living 
fountains  of  water,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  our  eyes. 


SERMON  XXVI. 

FAITH    IN    AN    UNSEEN    CHRIST. 

"  Blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  helieved." — 

John  xx.  29. 

Here  is  another  "  beatitude  "  in  addition  to  what 
Matthew  gives  ;  and  from  the  same  lips  that  spoke 
the  others.  For  Christ  was  himself  the  "  Blessed 
One  ;  "  and  well  knew  who  were  "  blessed,"  and 
what  made  them  so.  He  knew  not  only  who  were 
to  be  partakers  of  the  great  beatitude,  "  Come,  ye 
blessed  of  my  Father,"  but  who  are  partakers  of 
blessing  now.  The  substance  of  his  statement  here 
is  just  this:  "The  blessed  ones  are  the  believing 
ones  ;  and  of  these  the  most  blessed  are  they  whose 
faith  rests  most  simply  on  the  bare  word  of  God, 
without  either  sight  or  sign." 

Man  neither  understands  nor  likes  this  way. 
lie  says,  Had  I  seen  Christ  and  his  cross,  I  should 
certainly  have  believed.  He  glories  in  his  proverb, 
"  Seeing's  believing,"  in  opposition  to  God's,  "  Be- 
lieving's  seeing  ;  "  thus  denying  that  "  faith  is  the 
substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of 
things  not  seen,"  and  forgetting  how  the  Lord 
spoke  at  Bethany, — not,  "  If  thou  shouldst  see 
thou  shouldst  believe"  but,  "If thou  shouldst  believe, 

202 


FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST.  203 

thou  shoulclst  see."  There  is,  no  doubt,  blessedness 
in  seeing  (John  xx.  20)  ;  and  there  is  blessedness  in 
believing  ;  and  there  is  blessedness  in  believing  after 
seeing  ;  but  that  of  which  the  Lord  here  speaks  is 
a  blessedness  different  from  these,  and  truer  than 
all  of  them, — the  blessedness  of  believing  wittioi 
seeing.  Others  may  be  blessed  ;  for  any  kind  of 
true  connection  with  the  Lord  must  make  us 
blessed;  but  they  are  the  most  blessed  who  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed.  The  actual  sight 
of  Christ  contributed  much  less  to  the  blessedness 
of  those  who  saw  him,  than  we  generally  suppose. 
Tens  of  thousands  saw  him,  yet  remained  unbeliev- 
ing and  unblest  ;  and  in  the  case  of  multitudes  of 
others,  the  sight  of  him  onlv  led  to  further  unbelief, 

7  CD  m/  y 

and  hatred,  and  rejection.  Even  in  the  case  of 
those  who  saw  and  believed,  the  seeing  was  not 
such  a  special  advantage  and  blessing  as  we  some- 
times think.  Thomas  saw  and  believed  ;  yet  the 
Lord  will  not  allow  him  or  us  to  suppose  that  this 
is  best.  Lie  tells  us  that,  far  better  than  this,  is 
the  blessedness  which  flows  from  simple  faith,  in 
the  absence  of  all  visible  or  sensible  helps  ;  simple 
faith,  that  counts  Gods  testimony  sufficient,  and 
owns  a  risen  Lord,  though,  in  doing  this,  it  is  unas- 
sisted by  eye,  or  ear,  or  hand. 

But  how  and  why  are  these  believing  ones  so 
specially  "  blessed  ?" 

1.  Tliey  throw  themselves  upon  the  bare  word  of 
God. — All  that  they  believe,  they  believe  simply 
because  God  has  said  it  :  so  that  their  faith  rests 


204  FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST. 

on  no  divided  evidence  :  and  the  foundation  they 
build  on  is  not  partly  strong  and  partly  weak, 
partly  iron  and  partly  clay,  partly  rock  and  partly 
sand,  but  wholly  rock,  wholly  iron,  wholly  strong. 
They  take  God's  testimony  as  their  sole  authority 
for  everything.  This  makes  their  faitli  sure  ;  far 
surer  than  if  it  had  sprung  out  of  what  is  seen 
by  their  own  eye.  This  makes  it  also  far  more 
unwavering  and  unchanging  than  if  it  rested  on 
sight ;  for  sight  may  change  ;  to-day  bright,  to- 
morrow dim  ;  but  God's  testimony  changes  not. 
Not  sense,  nor  feeling,  nor  touch,  nor  taste,  nor 
vision,  but  the  naked  wTord  of  Him  that  cannot  lie; 
— this  is  the  true  foundation  of  a  sinner's  faith. 
That  is  the  surest  and  truest  faith,  that  thus  comes 
into  contact  with,  and  rests  directly  on,  the  bare 
rod:,  with  nothing  between.  Nothing  can  shake 
faith,  in  such  a  case,  but  that  which  shakes  the 
evidence  of  God's  own  being  and  faithfulness. 
Changes  and  uncertainties,  in  themselves  or  in  man, 
cannot  shake  them,  so  long  as  they  know  that 
with  God  there  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow 
of  turning. 

2.  They  come  directly  into  contact  with  God  him- 
self.— No  cloud,  no  distance,  no  medium  of  any 
kind,  comes  between  them  and  God.  They  deal 
directly  with  God  ;  the  soul  touches  him  who  is  a 
Spirit,  needing  no  interpreter  nor  introducer.  We 
speak  to  God,  and  he  speaks  to  us,  as  he  did  to 
Moses,  face  to  face.  We  are  of  necessity  cast  upon 
God  himself,  God  alone  ;  and  this  is  blessedness. 


FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST.  205 

Joseph  no  longer  speaks  to  his  brethren  through 
an  interpreter,  but  draws  near  and  speaks  in  their 
own  tongue,  nay,  falls  on  Benjamin's  neck,  and 
kisses  him. 

3.  They  get  more  into  the  heart  and  reality  of  the 
things  of  God. — Sight  often  crusts  over  spiritual 
things,  or  builds  a  wall,  or  draws  a  veil  around 
them.  Simple  faith  goes  in  at  once  to  the  heart 
and  core  of  things  ;  it  goes  beyond  what  is  outer, 
and  takes  up  its  dwelling  in  the  region  of  the 
invisible  and  divine.  Instead  of  cruising  along  the 
rocky  sea-board,  it  strikes  inland,  and  pitches  its  tent 
amid  the  gardens  and  by  the  streams  of  a  richer 
and  more  glorious  country  ;  it  leaves  things  seen 
and  temporal  behind,  and  holds  direct  intercourse 
with  things  unseen  and  eternal.  It  is  in  itself 
simpler,  purer,  and  more  direct;  less  drossy  and 
earthly  ;  less  mixed  or  alloyed  with  elements  of 
frailty,  or  self,  or  the  flesh  ;  and  hence  it  finds  its 
way  into  regions  into  which  faith  of  a  grosser  kind 
could  never  penetrate  :  it  rises  up,  with  a  buoy- 
ancy all  its  own,  into  a  higher  atmosphere,  disen- 
tangled and  disengaged  from  the  things  of  earth. 
Like  a  being  without  a  body  to  clog  it,  it  moves 
more  at  will,  and  rejoices  in  a  liberty  to  which 
faith  of  a  more  material  kind  is  a  stranger. 

4.  They  take  fewer  false  stejis,  and  maize  fewer 
mistakes. — Simple  faith  sees,  as  it  were,  everything 
with  God's  eyes,  and  hears  everything  with  God's 
ears  ;  it  sees  nothing  with  man's  eyes,  and  hears 
nothing  with   man's  ears  ;  and  thus  comes   to  no 


206  FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST. 

false  conclusions,  and  is  kept  from  the  continual  mis- 
takes into  which  sense  is  falling.  It  sees  through 
the  screen,  or  veil,  of  the  visible  into  the  invisible; 
it  makes  the  distant  seem  as  the  near,  and  the 
future  as  the  present.  It  not  only  sets  the  right 
estimate  on  the  evidence  of  sense  and  feeling,  but 
it  puts  the  true  interpretation  upon  all  the  facts 
and  phenomena  coming  under  the  eye  or  sense.  It 
disputes  the  point  with  sense  and  feeling,  with  the 
eye  and  ear,  with  consciousness  and  reason,  and 
triumphs  over  all.  Exercising  simple  faith  on  the 
bare  word  of  him  who  has  given  me  the  sure  record 
respecting  his  crucified,  dead,  buried,  risen  Son,  I 
see  myself  crucified,  dead,  buried,  risen  with  . 
him.  Though  seeing  in  myself  the  chief  of  sinners, 
I  know  and  believe  that  there  is  no  condemnation 
for  me.  Conscious  of  foolishness  and  ignorance,  I 
know  and  believe  that  I  am  wise  in  Christ.  Sen- 
sible of  hourly  defilement  all  over,  I  am  persuaded 
that  there  is  no  spot  in  me.  I  see  sin  covering  the 
earth,  and  Satan  exercising  dominion,  but  yet  I  do 
not  believe  in  the  supremacy  of  sin,  and  I  know 
that  Jehovah  reigns.  I  see  no  visible  Christ,  no 
cross,  no  throne,  no  Holy  Spirit,  anywhere ;  and  yet 
I  believe  in  a  Christ,  a  cross,  a  throne,  a  Holy  Spirit, 
and  that  these  are  the  most  real  of  all  real  things. 
I  see  the  sickness,  the  death-bed,  the  coffin,  the 
grave  of  the  saint  ;  and  yet  I  believe  not  in  his 
sickness,  but  in  his  health  ;  not  in  his  death,  but 
in  his  life  ;  not  in  corruption,  but  in  incorruption  ; 
not  in  mortality,  but  in   immortality;  not  in   the 


FAITH  IX  AX  UNSEEN  CHRIST.  207 

grave,  but  in  the  resurrection.  Thus  what  I  see  I 
do  not  believe  ;  nay,  I  believe  in  the  contrary  of 
what  I  see.  1  believe  not  only  without,  but  against 
seeing  ;  and  thus  I  put  the  right  construction  upon 
things  seen  and  temporal  looking  at  everything 
with  the  eyes  of  God,  and  tasting  the  blessedness 
of  anticipating  the  time  when  that  which  is  perfect 
is  come,  and  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done 
away.  Thus  faith  judges  and  sifts  every' hing  by 
the  word  of  God,  and  is  in  its  turn  judged,  sifted, 
purified,  by  that  word,  so  as  to  yield  the  richest 
fruit,  and  bring  home  to  our  souls  the  fullest  and 
truest  blessing. 

5.  They  are  thus  subjected  to  discipline  of  the  best 
and  most  effectual  land.  This  life  of  believing  with- 
out seeing, — nay,  often  of  believing  against  seeing, 
— is  excellent  training  for  every  part  of  the  new 
nature.  It  keeps  the  body  under,  while  it  lifts  up 
the  soul ;  it  binds  the  flesh,  while  it  sets  free  the 
spirit ;  it  loosens  us  from  the  earthly,  and  fastens 
us  to  the  heavenly.  It  is  a  divine  school,  or  pro- 
cess of  discipline,  for  every  faculty  of  the  renewed 
being ;  detaching  intellect,  imagination,  feeling, 
more  and  more  from  the  gross  and  the  carnal,  and 
familiarising  them  with,  as  well  as  assimilating 
them  to,  the  pure  and  the  spiritual.  It  calms  us, 
too,  and  keeps  us  calm  in  a  stormy  world.  It 
awakes  us  and  keeps  us  awake,  amid  scenes  fitted 
lull  us  asleep.  It  makes  us  more  truly  "children 
to  of  the  light  and  of  the  day,,?  by  transporting  us 
beyond   this   world   of  night    and    darkness,   into 


208  FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST, 

the  kingdom  of  the  unsetting  sun.  It  greatly 
increases,  too,  our  longing  for  the  day  of  sinless 
vision,  when  sight  shall  no  longer  he  a  temptation, 
nor  the  senses  a  snare,  nor  outward  glory  a  hin- 
drance to  spiritual  feeling,  nor  the  works  of  God  a 
screen,  or  wall,  between  us  and  God  himself.  It 
whets  our  appetite  for  the  marriage  supper  of  the 
Lamb,  and  in  thus  giving  us  a  time  of  fasting,  pre- 
pares  us  for  the  day  of  feasting.  How  much  of  true 
efficacious  discipline  turns  upon  our  being  kept  from 
present  vision,  and  compelled  to  believe  without 
sight  or  sign  ;  to  live  wholly  by  faith  upon  an 
unseen  Christ,  and  in  expectation  of  an  unseen 
kingdom  ! 

For  all  that  we  have  spoken  applies  both  to  past 
and  future.  We  see  neither  ;  the  cross  and  the 
crown  are  both  invisible  ;  and  in  regard  to  both  it 
is  true,  "  Blessed  is  he  that  hath  not  seen,  and  yet 
hath  believed.'  The  present  want  of  vision  is  no 
loss  to  us  now,  and  shall  be  no  loss  to  us  hereafter. 
Seeds  require  darkness  to  spring  in  ;  light  injures; 
so  we  require  the  darkness  of  this  world  to  spring- 
in  ;  light  would  interfere  with  our  development 
and  growth.  We  are  to  flourish  in  light,  but  it  is 
our  day  of  darkness  here  that  prepares  us  for  this. 
Were  it  not  for  this  day  of  darkness,  this  day  of 
the  absence  of  vision,  we  should  be  but  half  pre- 
pared for  the  day  of  light,  and  the  realm  of  glorious 

day. 

This  is  the  church's  day  of  faith,  not  of  sight; 
for  during  her  Lord's  absence,  she  lives  by  believ- 


FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST.  209 

ing,  not  seeing.  Others  have  seen  for  her;  and  she 
believes  what  they  saw.  The  disciples  saw  the 
death  and  resurrection  for  her ;  the  prophets  saw 
the  glory  and  the  kingdom  for  her;  and  she  be- 
lieves what  they  saw.  She  hears  the  report  regard- 
ing the  cross  of  Christ  from  those  who  saw  it ;  and, 
believing,  she  says,  "  God  forbid  that  I  should 
glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
She  hears  the  report  concerning  the  dying,  buried, 
rising  Saviour;  and,  believing  it,  she  rejoices  with 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  She  hears  the 
report  of  prophets  concerning  the  resurrection  from 
the  dead,  when  the  Lord  returns  to  raise  and 
glorify  his  own ;  and,  believing-  it,  she  says,  "  0 
death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  0  grave,  where  is  thy 
victory  ? '  She  hears  the  report  concerning  the 
future  inheritance  and  kingdom ;  and,  believing  it, 
she  exults  in  the  prospect,  tasting  thereby  a  pecu- 
liar blessedness,  which  she  could  not  have  done  in 
other  circumstances,  even  though  God  had  given 
her  a  glimpse  of  the  third  heaven  itself,  or  dropped 
down  upon  her  a  gem  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  as  a 
specimen,  or  earnest,  to  sight  and  touch,  of  what 
its  glory  is  to  be. 

Words  like  those  of  our  text  seem  specially 
written  for  us  in  this  day  of  absence,  when  we  must 
be  indebted  to  faith  alone  for  the  knowledge  of 
everything  connected  either  with  the  sufferings 
that  are  past,  or  the  glory  that  is  to  follow.  We 
need  not  ask  for  a  sign;  there  shall  no  sign  be 
given  but  the  sign  of  the  prophet  Jonas ;  and,  be- 


210  FAITH  IN  AX  UNSEEN  CHRIST. 

sides,  the  privilege  of  the  church  in  this  age  is  to 
live  without  any  sign  or  vision,  in  simple  faith 
upon  the  word  of  an  unseen  God.  This  is  her 
blessedness  and  honour.  By  this  she  resembles 
most,  and  treads  most  closely  in  the  footsteps  of, 
the  Son  of  God.  By  this  she  condemns  the  world, 
and  crucifies  the  flesh,  and  bears  witness  to  the 
power,  the  faithfulness,  the  love  of  God.  For  this 
witness  of  simple  faith,  which  so  honours  God,  she 
is  honoured  of  God ;  and  receives  from  him  a  re- 
compence  of  reward,  both  now  and  hereafter, 
corresponding  to  her  testimony. 

Let  those  who  have  already  believed  through 
grace,  learn  more  of  their  true  character  ;  let  them 
remember  their  testimony,  and  act  according  to  it, 
and  up  to  it.  Live  as  believing  men ;  God  expects 
this  at  your  hands.  Ask  no  sign  nor  vision ;  ask 
no  evidence  of  miracle  without,  or  feeling  within, 
to  rest  your  faith  upon.  God  has  given  you  a  true 
report  concerning  his  Son,  confirmed  with  infallible 
proofs.  Let  your  faith  rest  simply  there,  in  the 
absence  of  sense,  or  sight,  or  feeling,  or  sign,  ex- 
ternal or  internal.  Remember  how  it  is  written, 
"  If  thou  shalt  believe,  thou  shalt  see."  The  vision 
will  come  in  its  due  time,  and  it  will  be  infinitely 
glorious;  meanwhile,  walk  by  faith,  till  the  day 
break  and  the  shadows  flee  away.  For  "  blessed 
are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  be- 
lieved." 

Let  those  who  have  not  yet  believed  nor  tasted 
that  the  Lord  is  gracious,  believe  now.     Wait  not 


FAITH  IN  AN  UNSEEN  CHRIST.  211 

for  signs  without  or  movements  within.  Take  the 
true  testimony  of  God  concerning  his  Son,  and  rest 
upon  it.  It  is  enough ;  and  it  is  all  true  !  See 
how  true  it  is  ;  and  what  a  love  it  speaks  of,  what 
a  salvation  it  announces  !  Believe,  and  be  saved  ! 
But  remember,  that  while  "  He  that  belie veth  shall 
be  saved,  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned  ! ' 


SERMON   XXVIT. 

CONSECRATION    BY    BLOOD 

"  And  lie  brought  the  other  ram,  the  ram  of  consecration  :  and  Aaron 
and  his  sons  laid  their  hands  upon  the  head  of  the  ram.  And  he  slew  it ; 
and  Moses  took  of  the  blood  of  it,  and  put  it  upon  the  tip  of  Aaron's  right 
ear,  and  upon  the  thumb  of  his  right  hand,  and  upon  the  great  toe  of  his 
right  foot."— Lev.  viii.  22,  23. 

By  "  the  ram  of  consecration/'  is  meant  the  ram  by 
which  Aaron  and  his  sons  were  consecrated,  or 
set  apart  for  the  service  of  God.  The  victim  was 
selected  by  Moses,  who  was  thus  representing  God. 
It  was  not  Aaron  and  his  sons  who  chose  the  sacri- 
fice ;  it  was  God  who  made  the  choice  for  them, 
and  presented  the  ram  to  them  that  they  might 
put  their  hands  on  it,  and  in  so  doing,  acknowledge 
it  as  God's  appointed  sacrifice,  and  accept  it  as  their 
substitute. 

Thus,  the  transaction  of  sacrifice  is  here,  as  else- 
where, shewn  to  be  twofold,  Moses,  as  acting 
for  God,  exhibits  one  part,  and  Aaron,  as  acting 
for  the  people,  exhibits  the  other.  Moses  chooses; 
Aaron,  in  Israel's  name,  accepts  the  choice.  Moses 
presents  the  ram  ;  Aaron,  in  Israel's  name,  puts 
his  hand  on  it,  in  token  of  laying  sin  upon  it. 
Thuj,  in  one  sense,  God  lays  our  sins  upon  the 

sacrifice  ;  but,  in  another,  it  is  we  icho  lay  our  sins 
212 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  213 

upon  it,  when  we  bring  them  to  it  and  confess  them 
over  its  head.  It  is  this  latter  part  of  the  great 
transaction  that  is  so  fully  brought  out  in  the  Book 
of  Leviticus,  raid  the  other  books  relating  to  sacri- 
fice. For  though,  in  one  aspect,  Aaron  represents 
Christ,  in  another,  he  represents,  not  Christ,  but 
Israel,  or  the  Church.  This  is  especially  the  case 
when  his  sons  are  associated  with  him,  and  when 
he  places  his  hands  on  the  head  of  the  sacrifice, 
and  confesses  sin  upon  it.  He  acts  and  speaks  in 
the  name  of  the  people,  confessing  their  sin,  and 
laying  it  on  the  Lamb  of  God.  He  thus  repre- 
sents, not  the  Father,  but  the  sinner  accepting  the 
sacrifice  provided  by  the  Father.  He  represents, 
not  Christ,  but  the  sinner  bringing  his  sin  to  Christ, 
and  taking  him  as  his  substitute  and  surety.  The 
Father's  act  in  laying  sin  on  Christ,  and  our  act 
in  laying  our  individual  sins  on  Christ,  are  two 
things  not  to  be  confounded,  and  neither  of  them 
to  be  overlooked. 

This  personal  dealing  with  the  sacrifice,  this 
putting  the  hand  on  the  head  of  the  ram  of  conse- 
cration, as  it  was  about  to  be  slain,  is  the  first  part 
of  the  great  transaction  ;  and  it  is  that  part  which 
represents  the  forgiveness  of  the  individual  thus 
personated  by  Aaron  and  his  sons.  Thus,  the 
beginning  of  the  consecration  is  forgiveness, — for- 
giveness through  death, — the  death  of  one  selected 
by  God  to  bear  his  sins.  There  can  be  no  conse- 
cration without  forgiveness  ;  and,  upon  forgiveness, 
consecration  follows  forthwith,    being,  in  fact,    a 


214  CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD. 

continuation  of  the  sacrificial  process  through  which 
the  forgiveness  is  obtained. 

This  sacrificial  process  is  very  fully  given  us 
here.  There  is,  first,  the  selection  of  the  victim. 
There  is,  secondly,  the  transfer  of  the  sinner's  sin 
to  this  selected  victim.  There  is,  thirdly,  the  death 
of  the  victim.  There  is.  fourthly,  the  transfer  of 
its  death  to  the  sinner,  by  putting  the  blood  upon 
him.  There  is,  fifthly,  the  sinner's  new  life  after 
this  has  been  gone  through.  There  is,  lastly,  his 
entire  consecration  to  God  in  consequence  of  his 
whole  man  having  thus  died  and  risen. 

1.  The  selection  of  the  victim. — As,  in  all  cases, 
the  lamb  or  goat,  on  these  great  public  occasions, 
was  to  be  chosen  by  Moses,  so  was  our  great 
Sacrifice  chosen  by  God.  "Behold  my  servant 
whom  I  have  chosen,"  is  God's  message  to  us  con- 
cerning him  ;  and  again,  he  says,  "  I  have  exalted 
one  chosen  out  of  the  people  ; '  and,  in*  the  New 
Testament,  he  is  called  "the  Christ,  the  chosen  of 
God"  (Luke  xxiii.  35).  The  great  sacrifice,  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins,  the  lamb  for  the  burnt- 
offering,  is  entirely  of  God's  selection.  And  in 
this  of  itself,  we  have  the  blessed  assurance  of  its 
suitableness  and  perfection. 

2.  There  Is  the  transfer  of  the  sinners  sin  to  this 
selected  victim. — Though,  in  one  sense,  this  is  done 
by  God,  through  that  same  eternal  purpose  by 
which  the  victim  was  selected  ;  yet,  in  another 
sense,  and  as  a  thing  brought  about,  or  becoming 
a  fact,  in  time,  it  is  the  sinner  that  does  this,  when 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  215 

he  accepts  the  sacrifice,  and,  putting  his  hand 
upon  it,  confesses  his  sin  over  it.  Then  the  actual 
transfer  takes  place  ;  for,  up  till  that  moment, 
the  sin  had  been  lying  on  the  sinner.  It  is  upon 
our  acceptance  of  God's  sin-offering  that  the 
guilt,  which  had  made  us  unclean  in  bis  sight, 
passes  over  to  the  appointed  Substitute,  and  leaves 
us  clean.  What  he  asks  of  us  is  simply  our  sin, 
our  guilt;  no  more.  He  is  appointed  to  receive 
and  bear  it.  He  beseeches  us  to  transfer  it  to  him, 
and  to  allow  him  to  bear  it  all.  And  why  should 
there  be  unwillingness  to  allow  of  such  a  transfer  ? 
Why  should  the  relinquishment  of  condemnation 
be  so  slowly,  so  reluctantly  consented  to  ? 

3.  There  is  the  death  of  the  victim. — According  to 
the  process  described  in  our  text,  the  transfer  is 
made  ivhile  the  victim  is  alive  ;  and  then,  he  having 
been  loaded  with  our  transgressions,  is  led  out  to 
be  slain.  For  as  death  was  the  due  of  our  sin,  so 
must  it  be  the  due  of  him  to  whom  it  is  transferred. 
On  whomsoever  the  guilt  is  found,  on  him  must 
the  penalty  lie ;  and  from  him  must  that  penalty 
be  exacted  to  the  uttermost.  The  soul  that  sin- 
neth,  it  must  die.  Death,  nothing  less  than  death, 
must  be  inflicted  wherever  guilt  is  found  ;  for  law 
must  take  its  course,  and  righteousness  must  have 
its  satisfaction.  The  only  thing  that  can  remove 
guilt  from  us  for  ever,  is  the  death  of  him  to  whom 
it  is  transferred.  In  no  other  place  can  guilt  be 
hidden,  so  as  never  to  re-appear  against  us,  but  the 
grave.      Death    pays  the  debt  and   exhausts    the 


216  CONSECRATION7  BY  BLOOD. 

penalty  ;  nothing  short  of  death.  Without  that 
shedding  of  blood,  which  is  the  means  of  death, 
and  the  evidence  of  its  having  taken  place,  is  no 
remission. 

4.  There  is  the  transfer  of  this  death  to  the  sinner 
by  putting  the  blood  upon  him. — The  sinner's  death 
is  first  of  all  transferred  to  the  Suretv,  who  dies  as 
the  sinner's  substitute.  Then  the  Surety's  death  is 
transferred  back  again  to  the  sinner,  and  placed  to 
his  account  as  if  it  had  been  his  own.  In  confession , 
we  transfer  our  death  to  the  Surety.  In  believing, 
we  transfer  his  death  to  ourselves,  so  that,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  it  comes  to  be  reckoned  truly  ours. 
This  transference  of  the  Surety's  death  to  us,  is  that 
which  is  set  before  us  by  the  putting  the  blood  upon 
us.  For  blood  means  death, — or  life  taken  away  ; 
and  the  putting  of  blood  upon  us  is  the  intimation 
the  death  has  passed  upon  us, — and  that  death, 
none  other  than  the  death  of  the  Surety.  The  put- 
ting the  blood  upon  us  is  the  identifying  of  us  with 
him, — his  death  with  ours, — so  that  thus  we  die 
with  Christ, — and  we  are  buried  with  Christ  ;  and 
all  in  order,  as  we  shall  see,  that  we  may  rise  again 
with  Christ.  It  is  in  this  way  that  we  become 
partakers  of  the  baptism  wherewith  he  was  bap- 
tized ;  not  by  being  plunged  in  blood  ;  not  by  our 
being  brought  to  the  blood,  but  by  the  blood  being 
brought  to,  or  applied  to  us  ;  by  having  blood  put 
upon  us,  as  in  the  case  of  Aaron  and  his  sons, — to 
signify  that  thus  we  were  dead, — dead  with  him 
who  died  for  us, — dead  in  virtue  of  the  transference 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  217 

of  his  death  to  us  by  the  sprinkling  of  the  blood 
upon  our  persons. 

It  was  not  Aaron  that  sprinkled  the  blood  upon 
himself  or  his  sons.  That  would  have  meant  that 
he  was  putting  himself  to  death  with  his  own  hand, 
as  a  self-murderer.  He  neither  sprinkled  the  blood 
upon  himself,  nor  did  he  plunge  himself  in  the 
blood ;  that  would  have  been  the  symbol  of  suicide, 
not  of  death  bv  the  hand  of  the  law.  It  was 
Moses,  representing  God,  that  sprinkled  the  blood. 
Aaron  but  presented  himself  in  the  appointed 
place,  put  himself  in  the  appointed  position,  and 
forthwith  the  symbol  of  death  was  administered 
to  him.  God,  by  the  hand  of  Moses,  sprinkled 
the  blood  upon  him, — as  an  intimation  that  the 
death  of  the  sacrifice  had  been  transferred  to 
him.  It  was  by  this  baptism  of  blood,  beside  the 
altar  where  the  sacrifice  had  died,  that  symbolised 
to  Israel  that  which  was  not  fully  revealed  till 
after  years, — the  sinners  death  with  Christ ;  and 
told  him  that  the  time  was  coming  when  he  should 
be  in  reality  baptized  into  his  death,  made  partaker 
of  his  death,  that  so  he  might  also  be  partaker  of 
his  burial  and  his  resurrection.  It  is  God  that 
sprinkles  the  blood  of  Christ  upon  the  sinner,  and 
so  transfers  to  him  Messiah's  surety-death  upon 
the  cross.  And  what  God  asks  of  every  sinner 
here  is,  that  coming  to  the  great  altar  of  sacrifice, 
even  the  cross  of  his  Son,  he  would  allow  Him  to 
transfer  the  Surety's  death,  with  all  its  everlasting 
benefits  of  pardon,  and  salvation,  and  life,  to  him. 


218  CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD. 

0  sinner,  it  is  this  that  thy  God  this  day  asks  of 
thee  !  Not  to  do  anything,  but  to  let  him  do  the 
whole.  Not  to  put  thyself  to  death,  either  in 
symbol  or  in  reality,  but  to  allow  him  to  reckon  to 
thee  the  sinbearing  death  of  his  almighty  Son. 
Wilt  thou  not  consent  to  this,  and,  in  consenting, 
receive  from  his  hand  the  baptism  of  blood,  by 
which  the  great  death  is  made  over  to  thee,  for- 
giveness sealed,  and  cleansing  at  once  received  ? 

Remember  that  that  which  God  calls  cleansing 
can  only  be  accomplished  by  death.  It  is  guilt 
that  has  made  thee  unclean,  and  that  uncleanness 
can  only  be  removed  by  that  which  removes  the 
guilt  from  between  thee  and  God.  That  guilt  can- 
not be  cancelled  save  by  the  death  of  the  sacrifice 
applied  to  thee.  The  application  of  that  death  by 
the  sprinkling  of  the  blood  upon  thee  is  that  which 
at  once  takes  away  thy  guilt,  and  makes  thee 
wholly  clean.  Put  yourself  in  the  position  which 
God  asks  thee  to  do  ;  that  is,  believe  the  Father's 
testimony  to  the  death  of  his  Son.  The  moment 
that  thou  believest,  the  blood  is  sprinkled,  the  death 
is  transferred,  thou  art  counted  as  one  who  hast 
died,  and  so  paid  the  penalty, — and  thou  art  for- 
given, accepted,  clean  ! 

5.  There  is  the  sinners  new  life  thus  received  through 
death.  Aaron  and  his  sons  are  marked  with  the 
symbol  of  death,  and  so  accounted  as  dead  men  ; 
yet  they  go  away  alive.  The  stains  of  the  blood 
are  washed  off  at  the  laver,  though  the  legal  and 
ceremonial  effects  of  it  remain  indelible.    They  are 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  219 

thus  represented  as  men  who  have  passed  through 
death  to  a  life  beyond  death, — -who  are  alive  from 
the  dead.  In  other  words,  they  are  risen  men  ; 
and  as  such,  they  go  forth  to  the  service  of 
God. 

Just  so  is  it  now  with  the  saints, — God's  kings 
and  priests.  They  have  been  baptized  with  Christ's 
baptism,  and  have  thus  died  with  him.  But  having 
died  with  him,  they  also  rise  ;  and,  as  risen  men, 
they  go  forth  to  serve  Him  who  has  done  all  for 
them.  "  I  am  crucified  with  Christ,  nevertheless 
I  live  ;  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me ;  and  the 
life  I  now  live  in  the  flesh,  I  live  by  the  faith  of 
him  who  loved  me."  Made  partakers  of  Christ's 
resurrection  and  Christ's  life,  they  go  forth  to  do 
his  will,  in  the  strength  of  his  risen  life.  It  is  as 
resurrection- men  that  they  serve  him  ;  as  men, 
partakers  even  here  of  the  power  of  resurrection- 
life,,  and  who  are  drawing  from  that  resurrection- 
fountain  daily  treasures  of  life,  wherewith  to  labour 
for  him  who  died  for  them  and  who  rose  again.  If 
ye  then  be  risen  with  Christ,  seek  those  things  that 
are  above,  and  make  use  of  your  risen  life  for  duty, 
for  temptation,  for  battle,  for  trial,  for  suffering. 
It  will  be  sufficient  for  every  time  of  need. 

6.  There  is  the  entire  consecration  of  the  whole  man 
to  God,  in  consequence  of  his  having  thus  died  and 
risen.  The  solemn  act  of  consecration  described  in 
our  text  brings  out  this  very  fully.  The  victim  is 
called  the  "  ram  of  consecration  ;"  and  it  is  the 
blood  of  this  ram  sprinkled  upon  Aaron  and  his 


l-^O  CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD. 

sons,  which,  while  it  symbolises  their  death  and 
resurrection,  represents  their  consecration  to  God, 
and  to  his  service,  by  that  same  transaction.  That 
which  proclaimed  them  dead,  in  consequence  of  the 
applied  death  of  the  sacrifice,  sets  them  apart  for 
holy  purposes  in  God's  house. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  death  and  resurrection  of  our 
true  rain  of  consecration,  our  better  sacrifice, 
operate  upon  us.  They  "  sanctify "  us,  as  the 
apostle's  expression  is,  in  the  Epistle  to  the  He- 
brews :  "Jesus  also,  that  he  might  sanctify  the 
people  with  his  own  blood,  suffered  without  the 
gate."  Thus  we  are  "  sanctified,"  or  set  apart,  or 
consecrated,  by  the  application  of  the  blood  ;  and 
hence  the  name  of  "saints,"  or  "consecrated  ones." 
God  has  thus  taken  special  pains  to  shew  us  that 
it  is  by  the  application  of  Christ's  death  and  resur- 
rection to  us  that  this  consecration  takes  place.  It 
is  thus,  through  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  we  are 
separated  unto  God,  as  his  true  priests, — fitted  to 
do  his  work  here  on  earth,  and  hereafter  more  fully, 
more  gloriously,  in  his  kingdom.  It  is  through 
death  and  resurrection  that  wTe  pass  to  consecration 
for  priestly  service,  in  the  temple  and  kingdom 
above. 

But  the  ceremony  described  in  our  text  is  a  pecu- 
liar one.  The  bod}^  of  Aaron  was  not  plunged  in 
blood  ;  for  the  quantity  of  blood  is  of  no  conse- 
quence ;  the  blood  was  merely  applied  to  three 
places  of  his  body ;  and  by  this,  the  whole  man  was 
consecrated.     The  tip  of  the  right  ear  was  the  first 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  221 

place,  denoting  that  his  hearing  was  now  set  apart 
for  God,  and  that  he  was  to  be  ever  in  the  attitude 
of  one  listening  to  God  alone, — hearing  no  words 
but  his,  heeding  no  instructions  but  his.  The  thumb 
of  the  right  hand  was  the  next  place  sprinkled, 
indicating  the  consecration  of  all  bodily  skill,  and 
energy,  and  power,  to  the  service  of  Jehovah,  and 
telling  him  that  that  right  hand  and  its  "  cunning" 
were  to  be  used  henceforth  for  no  meaner  employ- 
ment than  the  work  of  the  God  of  heaven .  The  great 
toe  of  the  right  foot  was  the  third  place  touched 
with  blood,  signifying  that  his  feet  were  to  be  ever 
ready  for  priestly  service,  that  his  limbs  were  to  be 
employed  for  God,  and  their  strength  or  swiftness 
solely  dedicated  to  bearing  his  burdens  or  running 
his  errands.  The  whole  man,  in  all  his  faculties 
and  powers  of  soul  and  body,  was  to  be  thus  set 
apart  for  God. 

It  is  this  complete  separation  unto  God  that  is 
effected  by  our  participation  in  the  death  and  resur- 
rection of  the  Lord.  In  being  made  partakers  of 
his  baptism,  nailed  to  his  cross,  buried  in  his  grave, 
raised  with  his  resurrection,  we  are  totally  conse- 
crated to  the  service  of  him  who  raised  up  Christ 
from  the  dead,  and  who  has  thus  raised  us  up  with 
him,  and  made  us  sit  with  him  in  heavenly  places. 
Our  ears,  our  hands,  our  feet,  are  thus  wholly  his  ; 
not  our  own,  not  the  world's,  not  Satan's.  As  those 
who  have  died  with  him  and  risen,  we  hear  him 
always,  and  listen  for  his  words  and  commands, 
ready  to  put  forth  hands  and  feet,  every  power  and 


222  CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD. 

faculty  of  soul  and  body,  in  the  service  of  him  with 
whom  we  died,  with  whom  we  are  risen,  and  to 
whom  we  are  thus  solemnly  set  apart.  If  the  bap- 
tism of  Christ,  applied  to  us  in  believing,  has  any 
meaning  at  all,  it  sets  before  us  these  things 
respecting  ourselves, — first,  we  are  wholly  sinners, 
wholly  guilty,  subject  to  wrath  and  death ;  secondly, 
we  are  wholly  forgiven,  in  consequence  of  our 
Surety's  sin-bearing  baptism  of  death  for  us  ;  for 
in  His  death  we  are  dead.  Next,  we  are  wholly 
risen  from  death,  in  virtue  of  our  Surety's  resur- 
rection ;  and  lastly,  we  are  wholly  consecrated 
unto  God,  through  means  of  this  death  and  resur- 
rection. The  whole  man,  from  head  to  feet, 
becomes  a  sacred  thing,  dedicated  to  the  service 
of.the  living  God. 

Our  ears  are  thus  set  apart  to  God.  And  if  so, 
how  wide  open  should  they  be  to  hear  his  voice  ; 
how  thoroughly  closed  against  all  sinful  sounds. 
They  are  the  ears  of  risen  men,  and  should  have 
no  sympathy  with  unholy  words,  or  vain  conversa- 
tion, or  earthly  frivolities.  Our  hands  are  thus 
consecrated  to  God  ;  let  us  use  them  for  him  alone, 
anxious  not  to  profane  the  vessel  thus  set  apart  for 
the  master's  use.  Our  feet  are  set  apart  for  him  ; 
let  us  run  the  errands  of  no  other  master,  nor  use 
our  limbs  in  the  service  of  the  flesh,  or  the  world, 
or  the  world's  king.  As  God's  consecrated  priests, 
his  true  Aarons,  his  true  Levites,  his  true  Israel, 
let  us  reckon  ourselves  dead  indeed  unto  sin,  but 
alive  unto  righteousness  through  our  Lord  Jesus 


CONSECRATION  BY  BLOOD.  223 

Christ.     Whether  we  eat  or  drink,  or  whatever  we 
do,  let  us  do  all  to  the  glory  of  God. 

Follow  the  Master  fully.  Give  him  no  divided 
heart.  Serve  him  wholly.  Give  him  no  half-and- 
half  service.  Think  of  yourselves  as  alive  from  the 
dead,  as  partakers  of  Christ's  baptism,  and  death, 
and  resurrection,  and  act  accordingly.  Let  not  sin 
therefore  reign  in  your  mortal  body,  that  ye  should 
obey  it  in  the  lusts  thereof ;  neither  yield  ye  your 
members  as  instruments  of  unrighteousness  unto 
sin  ;  but  "yield  yourselves  unto  God,  as  those  that 
are  alive  from  the  dead,  and  your  members  as 
instruments  of  righteousness  unto  God"  (Rom.  vi. 
12,  13).  "I  beseech  you,"  says  the  apostle,  "  by 
the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present  your  bodies  a 
living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable,  unto  God,  which 
is  your  reasonable  service  ;  and  be  not  conformed 
to  this  world,  but  be  ye  transformed  by  the  renewing 
of  your  mind,  that  ye  may  prove  what  is  that  good, 
and  acceptable,  and  perfect  will  of  God  (Eom. 
xii  1). 


SERMON   XXVIII. 

A   PRESENT   SAVIOUR. 
"And  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus." — John  xx.  14. 

When  Jesus  comes  the  second  time  there  will  be 
no  mistake  as  to  who  he  is.  He  comes  in  his  own 
glory,  and  in  his  Father's  glory,  and  with  his 
mighty  angels  :  in  majesty,  and  power,  and  bright- 
ness. Every  one  shall  know  him  then.  The  Jew 
shall  know  him,  for  he  shall  "  look  upon  him  whom 
he  hath  pierced,  and  mourn."  The  Gentile  shall 
know  him  ;  for  it  is  written,  "Every  eye  shall  see 
him,  and  all  kindreds  of  the  earth  shall  wail  be- 
cause of  him."  The  saint  shall  know  him, — for  he 
comes  "to  be  glorified  in  his  saints,  and  to  be 
admired  in  all  them  that  believe."  The  sinner 
shall  know  him,  for  u  he  comes  to  take  vengeance 
upon  them  that  know  not  God,  and  that  obey  not 
his  gospel.  No  one  shall  mistake  him  in  that  daj^; 
for  it  shall  be  either  Jesus  the  bridegroom  coming 
to  be  recognised  and  rejoiced  in  by  his  long- waiting 
bride,  or  it  shall  be  Jesus  the  Judge  and  avenger 
coming  to  break  his  enemies  in  pieces  with  his 
iron  rod. 

But  when  he  came  the  first  time  he  was  mis- 
taken ;  few  knew  that  it  was  Jesus.     He  passed  in 
224 


A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR.  225 

and  out,  yet  was  he  unknown.  He  was  in  the 
world,  and  the  world  was  made  by  him,  and  yet 
the  world  knew  him  not.  u  He  came  unto  his 
own,  and  his  own  received  him  not."  Nazareth, 
where  he  had  been  brought  up,  knew  him  not. 
Capernaum,  where  he  dwelt,  knew  him  not. 
Bethsaida  knew  him  not,  and  even  Jerusalem 
knew  him  not.  He  was  full  of  grace  and  truth  ; 
He  was  the  messenger  of  the  Father's  love,  and 
the  declarer  of  his  own,  yet  men  knew  him  not. 
He  passed  through  this  world  unhonoured  and 
unrecognised  ;  One  in  whom  man  saw  not  the 
Mighty  God,  the  Incarnate  Word,  the  Eternal  Son 
of  the  Father. 

But  even  to  his  own  chosen  ones,  who  had  re- 
ceived him,  he  was  sometimes  strangely  unknown. 
The  two  Emmaus  friends  knew  him  not.  Thomas 
knew  him  not.  More  than  once  we  read  that  the 
disciples  knew  him  not,  and  even  Mary  "  knew  not 
that  it  was  Jesus."  One  would  have  thought  this 
impossible  in  any  circumstances,  and  yet  here  we 
find  it  so.  Even  Mary's  eyes  discerned  him  not. 
He  stood  before  her,  yet  she  knew  him  not.  The 
keen  eye  of  love,  the  quick-sighted  eye  of  woman 
failed  to  recognise  him.  One  wonders  how  it  could 
be  so.  Could  Jacob  see  his  own  Benjamin,  his  own 
Joseph,  and  yet  not  know  them  ?  Could  Jonathan 
meet  David,  and  yet  not  know  him  ?  Yet  Mary 
met  with  Jesus,  and  knew  not  that  it  was  he. 

What  hindered  the  recognition  ?  It  was  nothing 
in  Jesus  himself.     He  was  not  unwilling  to  be 


226  A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 

known,  nor  reluctant  to  be  saluted  and  recognised 
as  of  old.  He  did  not  veil  himself.  He  did  not 
stand  aloof.     What  was  it  then  ? 

1.  First,  She  was  seeking  the  living  among  the  dead. 
She  had  gone  to  the  tomb  to  find  him  :  her  only 
hope  seemed  there.  She  knew  that  he  had  died, 
and  she  expected  to  find  him  among  the  dead.  She 
forgot  that  he  was  the  living  One,  that  death  to 
him  could  be,  at  the  most,  but  the  matter  of  a 
day.  She  sought  him  where  he  was  not  to  be 
found,  and  when  he  appeared,  when  she  expected 
him  not,  she  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus.  Like 
the  foolish  child  that  would  dig  for  the  star  in  the 
little  pool  where  it  mirrors  its  beam,  and  does  not 
recognise  it  shining  in  its  living  beauty  above  his 
head ;  thus  Mary  sought  the  living  among  the  dead  ; 
the  heavenly  amid  the  earthly.  No  wonder  that 
she  knew  him  not.  Beware  of  seeking;  in  like 
manner  as  Mary  did,  the  living  among  the  dead  ; 
a  living  Christ  amid  dead  forms,  and  duties,  and 
devotions,  and  rites ;  lest,  when  he  does  appear  to 
you,  you  know  him  not. 

2.  Secondly,  She  teas  laying  too  much  stress  on  the 
mere  body  of  the  Lord.  She  had  known  it  in  other 
days.  She  had  seen  him  on  the  cross.  She  had 
helped  to  lay  him  in  the  sepulchre,  and  her  whole 
thoughts  were  therefore  occupied  with  the  body  of 
her  Lord.  When  last  she  saw  it,  it  was  pale  and 
cold,  torn  and  bleeding,  no  life  remaining.  Her 
thoughts  reverted  to  that  scene.  She  could  not 
realise  anything  else ;  and  now  this  remembrance 


A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR.  227 

of  the  body  of  her  Lord  came  between  her  and  the 
Lord  himself.  She  was  attaching  too  much  value 
to  his  mere  corporeal  frame ;  here  was  a  rebuke  to 
her  for  so  doing.  She  was  so  much  occupied  with 
the  thought  of  his  body,  that  the  real  Christ  was 
hidden,  the  Christ  himself,  so  that,  when  he  ap- 
peared, she  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus.  Let  us 
not  allow  anything  pertaining  to  the  outward  form 
of  Jesus, — in  which  sentimentalism  may  indulge, 
— to  hinder  our  beholding  the  real,  the  living 
Saviour.  Let  us  beware  lest  some  particular  aspect 
in  which  we  expect  to  see  him,  be  just  the  very 
thing  that  hinders  us  from  seeing  him  at  all.  If 
we  have  made  up  our  minds  only  to  see  him  in  one 
form,  under  one  aspect,  and  in  one  way,  it  may  be 
we  shall  not  see  him  at  all ;  or  when  he  does  stand 
before  us,  we  shall  be,  like  Mary,  not  knowing  that 
it  is  Jesus. 

3.  Thirdly,  She  was  blinded  by  her  overmuch  sor- 
row. Sorrow  had  filled  her  heart  and  absorbed  her 
soul  on  one  object;  her  dead  Master.  This  blinded 
her  to  the  living  one.  Sorrow  dimmed  her  eye 
with  tears,  and  she  failed  to  recognise  through  those 
tears  the  very  Christ  whom  she  was  seeking,  the 
very  being  over  whom  she  was  weeping.  Her  ex- 
cessive grief  raised  up  a  thick  mist  between  her  and 
her  Lord.  Let  us  beware  of  being  blinded  by  over- 
much sorrow.  In  the  world  we  shall  have  tribu- 
lation ;  we  may  reckon  upon  that  as  our  lot ;  yet, 
let  us  not  be  blinded  by  overmuch  sorrow;  or 
have   our   eyes   so   dimmed  with  tears   as  to  be 


228  A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 

unable  to  recognise  or  to  realise  a  present  Lord. 
Sorrow  should  produce  a  very  different  result.  It 
should  not  veil,  it  should  unveil  Christ.  It  should 
not  throw  you  to  a  distance  from  him,  or  bring  in 
some  mountain  of  separation  between  you  and  him; 
it  should  increase  your  nearness ;  it  should  bring 
you  nearer  to  him  and  him  to  you.  It  should 
make  him  to  be  felt  as  more  precious,  more  desir- 
able, more  entirely  suitable,  more  indispensable.  It 
should  make  you  more  quick-sighted  in  your  love ; 
instead  of  being,  like  Mary,  less  quick-sighted,  so  that 
you  may  know  that  it  is  Jesus  when  he  appears. 

4.  Fourthly,  She  icas  hindered  by  her  unbelief. 
Like  the  disciples,  she  was  slow  of  heart  to  believe 
all  that  the  prophets  had  spoken.  The  rising  from 
the  dead  was  a  thing  which  she  but  darkly  under- 
stood. Like  the  others,  she  could  not  believe  that 
the  Messiah  would  die,  and  now  that  he  is  dead, 
she  does  not  believe  that  he  can  rise  ajmin.  Her 
faith  did  indeed  cling  to  his  person ;  that  person 
was  precious  to  her,  but  all  her  need  of  him  she  did 
not  know.  Her  need  of  his  dying,  her  need  of  his 
rising  she  knew  not.  She  knew  enough  of  him  for 
faith  and  love  to  rest  upon ;  but  not  enough  to  keep 
her  from  falling  into  error  or  unbelief.  It  was 
unbelief  that  hindered  her  from  prompt  and  full 
recognition  of  her  beloved  Lord.  Is  it  not  in  our 
case  still  the  same  as  in  Mary's  ?  Is  it  not  unbe- 
lief still  that  comes  between  us  and  the  Lord  ?  He 
draws  near  to  us ;  he  stands  before  us,  yet  we  know 
him  not.     Perhaps  we  seek  him,  seek  him  ear- 


A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR.  229 

nestly,  and  he  comes,  yet,  when  he  comes,  we  recog- 
nise him  not;  we  know  not  that  very  Jesus  whom 
we  were  seeking,  if  he  comes  not  in  the  way  that 
we  expect.  Unbelief  has  suggested  that  it  is  not 
thus  that  we  are  to  expect  him  to  appear,  that  it  is 
not  in  this  place,  or  in  this  way,  or  in  this  form, 
that  we  may  expect  to  find  him  and  to  meet  him. 
He  presents  himself  to  us  as  a  risen  Christ,  an 
almighty  Saviour,  all  that  the  sinner  needs,  full  of 
grace  and  truth,  with  forgiveness  upon  his  lips  and 
eternal  life  in  his  hands ;  with  every  heavenly 
blessing  held  out  to  us ;  and  yet  we  recognise  him 
not;  for  unbelief  has  given  another  representation 
to  him,  and  we  are  not  prepared  to  recognise  him, 
save  in  that  form  which  we  ourselves  would  pre- 
scribe to  him,  in  that  aspect  that  we  have  made 
ourselves  think  that  he  will  surely  appear  to  us  in. 
Faith  makes  no  such  conditions  as  unbelief  does. 
Faith  does  not  attempt  to  prescribe  to  the  Lord  in 
what  form,  or  at  what  time,  or  in  what  way,  or  in 
what  circumstances  he  shall  appear.  It  is  ever 
ready  to  recognise  him  in  any  condition,  and  under 
any  garb.     It  is  glad  to  find  him  anywhere. 

Mark  then  the  peculiar  position  occupied  by 
Mary.  She  thought  that  she  was  seeking  an  absent 
Lord,  'whereas  she  was  refusing  to  recognise  a  present 
one.  Most  sinful  mistake  and  full  of  evil  to  herself, 
robbing  her  of  that  fulness  of  blessing  which  was 
at  her  very  side  !  Had  you  asked  her  what  ailed 
her  when  she  was  weeping,  she  would  have  said, 
my  Lord  is  absent,  I  have  been  seeking  him  and  I 


230  A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 

cannot  find  him  anywhere,  whereas  it  should  have 
been,  my  Lord  is  present  and  I  do  not  know  him. 
This  was  her  sin.  While  professing  to  seek  an 
absent  Lord,  she  was  refusing  to  recognise  a  present 
one.  This  was  her  sin,  this  was  her  calamity. 
"  She  knew  not  that  it  was  Jesus."  This  kept  her 
in  sorrow,  and  in  darkness. 

Is  not  her  position  precisely  that  which  we  our- 
selves too  often  occupy  ?  Is  not  that  sin  of  hers 
too  often  ours,  and  is  not  that  calamity  which  over- 
took her  just  the  very  calamity  which  we  so  often 
bring  upon  ourselves  ?  Her  case  resembles  ours. 
We  thrust  away  blessings  from  us  in  the  same  way 
that  she  did  ;  we  shut  out  the  Lord  just  as  she  did. 
Christ  is  present ;  let  us  keep  this  in  mind — "  Lo,  I 
am  with  you  alway."  He  is  no  distant,  no  absent 
Saviour  to  any  one,  but  ever  nigh.  He  is  at  our 
very  side,  at  the  very  side  of  each,  so  that  no  one 
can  complain  of  distance  in  him  any  more  than 
they  can  complain  ot  estrangement  or  want  of  love. 
He  is  never  absent,  nor  repulsive,  nor  unwilling  to 
be  recognised  as  Jesus,  whether  by  saint  or  sinner. 
He  does  not  veil  himself  to  prevent  our  seeing  him. 
He  does  not  repel  our  advances.  His  grace  never 
varies.  Always  is  he  the  same.  His  ear  is  the 
same  willing  ear,  his  eye  the  same  loving  eye,  and 
his  hand  stretched  out, — the  same  gracious  hand. 
To  sinner  and  to  saint,  Jesus  is  near 

This  nearness  of  Christ  is  what  faith  recognises ; 
for  the  office  of  faith  is  not  to  make  him  present, 
as  so  many  seem  to  imagine  ;  it  is  not  to  bring 


A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR.  231 

him  down  from  above.  The  office  of  faith  is  not 
to  seek  an  absent,  but  to  recognise  a  present  Lord. 
And  what  a  mighty  difference  there  is  between 
these  two  things  !  Unbelief  seeks  an  absent,  faith 
recognises  a  present  Lord.  Recognition  is  faith's 
special  office;  and  the  Saviour  whom  we  preach  is  not 
far  distant  and  inaccessible  in  yonder  heaven,  but 
near  ;  and  not  only  near,  but  the  nearest  of  all 
near  beings  ;  the  nearest  thing  to  you  on  earth  or 
in  heaven.  We  preach  a  present  Christ.  Let  faith 
simply  recognise  him  as  such,  and  all  is  well.  And 
just  as  faith  recognises  this  present  Christ,  instead 
of  going  in  quest  o±  him  as  if  he  were  absent, 
unbelief  blinds  the  eye  to  him.  It  cannot,  indeed, 
thrust  him  away ;  that  is  impossible.  It  cannot, 
with  all  its  efforts,  make  him  the  absent  one  ;  it 
cannot  empty  him  of  blessings,  but  it  refuses  to 
recognise  him.  It  knows  him  not,  it  treats  him 
as  the  distant  one,  in  order  thereby  to  be  furnished 
with  a  ground  for  self-righteous  efforts  in  seeking 
him.  It  treats  him  as  an  unloving  one,  as  one 
hiding  himself,  one  reluctant  to  appear  ;  and  thus 
it  puts  away  that  blessing  which  is  at  hand,  in  all 
its  fulness.  It  keeps  us  in  sorrow  and  in  dark- 
ness ;  it  prevents  communication  between  us  and 
the  Lord.  For,  let  us  remember,  that  earnestness 
is  not  faith.  There  is  an  earnestness  which  is  pure 
unbelief;  and  this  earnestness  of  unbelief  shews 
itself  by  going  in  quest  of  an  absent  Saviour 
while  the  earnestness  of  faith  shews  itself  in  recog- 
nising a  present  one. 


232  A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 

Yes  ;  Christ  is  at  our  side,  though  unseen  and 
unknown.  When  he  works  in  us,  effectually  draw- 
ing the  soul  to  himself,  he  cannot  be  hid  ;  but,  for 
a  time  he  may.  A  man  does  not  always  recognise 
him  at  first,  even  when  he  is  really  working  in 
him,  and  drawing  him  to  himself.  Many  things 
hide  him,  and  yet  he  carries  on  his  work  though 
hid. 

He  has  hidden  ways  of  leading  the  sinner  to  the 
Father.  It  is,  perhaps,  sometimes  a  long  way  ; 
there  are  many  windings  in  it,  and  it  seems 
when  we  look  at  it,  as  if  there  was  nothing  but 
common  events,  common  providences,  common 
mercies,  common  trials  ;  and  yet  it  was  Jesus  in 
each  one,  Jesus  himself,  though  we  knew  him  not. 
We  saw  the  process,  though  we  did  not  realise  what 
it  meant.  We  knew  not  that  Jesus  was  in  it,  that 
he  was  in  each  of  these  events,  in  each  of  these 
providences,  in  each  of  these  mercies,  in  each  of 
these  trials.  There  is  clanger  in  not  giving  Christ 
credit  for  his  own  work,  but  in  taking  the  credit 
to  ourselves  for  it,  or  giving  the  credit  to  chance, 
or  to  the  common  course  of  events.  It  is  one  tiling 
to  take  to  ourselves  too  much  credit,  and  it  is 
another  thing  not  to  ascribe  enough  to  him,  or  not 
to  realise  him  in  certain  things,  because  we  think 
these  things  are  not  so  remarkable  as  we  should 
have  expected  him  to  work  by  ;  but,  how  blessed 
does  the  discovery  come,  when  at  length  we  find 
that  it  was  really  he  who  was  working,  though  we 
long  refused  to  believe  him,   and   that  what  we 


A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR.  233 

imagined  to  be  just  natural  feeling,  natural  senti- 
ment, was,  after  all,  Jesus  himself,  carrying  on  his 
work  in  us. 

He  has  hidden  ways  of  giving  peace  to  the 
troubled.  The  wounded  spirit  looks  around  for 
rest,  and  for  healing  ;  yet  it  comes  not.  It  expects 
something  outward,  something  visible,  something 
striking,  as  Naaman  did,  anJ  it  is  disappointed 
when  there  is  nothing  of  this  kind.  It  refuses  to 
take  peace  in  a  way  so  simple  ;  it  refuses  to  taste 
and  recognise  the  gift,  because  it  is  not  presented 
to  it  in  some  striking  way  ;  till,  at  last,  the  soul 
is  led  to  ask,  What  if,  after  all,  I  am  putting  away 
a  present  blessing,  and  refusing  to  recognise  a  pre- 
sent Christ  ?  Whut  if  all  these  gleams  of  peace 
which  I  am  putting  away  from  me  be  real  ?  What 
if  it  be  the  light  of  his  countenance  which  I  am 
refusing  to  receive  ?  Thus,  the  soul  begins  to  learn 
that  it  is  really  so,  and  that  it  has  been  Jesus  all 
along,  and  yet  we  knew  him  not. 

Again,  he  has  hidden  ways  of  comforting  and 
gladdening  the  spirit  of  the  afflicted.  Trials  oft- 
times  come  strangely,  very  strangely,  and  we  do 
not  see  Jesus  in  them.  They  are  not  the  kind  of 
trials  we  looked  for,  nor  such  as  we  should  have 
thought  best  for  us,  and  so  we  refuse  to  be  com- 
forted.  But,  perhaps,  at  some  unexpected  turn  of 
the  way  we  make  the  blessed  discovery  that  it  was 
really  Jesus,  and  none  but  he  !  How  much  do  we 
lose  of  consolation  by  failing  to  recognise  Christ 
in  each,  even  the  commonest,  even  the  unlikeliest, 


234  A  PRESENT  SAVIOUR. 

even  the  most  untoward  and  adverse  events  that 
befall  us.  He  is  seeking  to  purify  us.  Each  event, 
be  it  dark  or  light,  be  it  sunshine  or  shadow ;  each 
event  is  tending  to  this.  All  is  full  of  meaning, 
full  of  rich,  deep  meaning,  though  we  know  it  not. 
We  find,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  a  process  moving 
onward,  moving  unaccountably,  perhaps  impercep- 
tibly, on  ;  and  though,  for  a  time,  we  discern  it  not 
fully,  yet  at  length  it  unfolds  itself  in  all  its  blessed- 
ness, and  we  see  that  the  Lord  was  in  it  all, 
purifying  us  as  silver.  These  changes  that  were 
taking  place  in  us  were  not  natural  changes,  the 
result  of  natural  causes,  but  wrought  by  his  own 
Almighty  hand,  though  not  in  the  wray  that  we 
expected. 

Let  us  learn,  theu,  to  recognise  a  present  Lord  ! 
This  is  faith's  especial  office,  and  no  amount  of 
sin  on  our  part,  can  reverse  this  state  of  things, 
this  order  which  God  has  established.  When  we 
begin,  because  of  felt  guilt,  or  of  conscious  evil, 
and  un worthiness,  to  seek  an  absent  or  a  distant 
Saviour,  we  are  giving  way  to  unbelief  in  one  of 
its  worst  forms.  And  never  shall  we  return  to 
our  quiet  rest  again,  until  we  have  learned  the  sin 
of  going  in  quest  of  an  absent  Lord,  instead  of  doing 
what  he  desires  we  should  at  all  times  do,  recog- 
nise a  present  one. 


SERMON  XXIX. 

SELF   OR   CHRIST;    WHICH   IS   IT? 

"  For  none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself.  For 
whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto 
the  Lord :  whether  we  live  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's.  For  to 
this  end  Christ  hoth  died,  and  rose,  and  revived,  that  he  might  be  Lord 
both  of  the  dead  and  living." — Rom.  xiv.  7-9. 

The  words  "  none  of  us"  shew  that  the  apostle  is 
speaking  of  those  who  have  been  delivered  from  a 
present  evil  world.  He  is  contrasting  them  with 
the  men  of  earth.  Once,  our  life,  he  means  to  say, 
was  the  same  as  theirs ;  now  all  is  changed ;  and 
instead  of  resemblance,  there  is  unlikeness  in  every 
feature.  He  does  not  count  it  pride  to  say,  we  are 
unselfish,  they  are  selfish ;  we  are  of  God,  and  the 
whole  world  lietli  in  wickedness. 

Each  of  these  verses  brings  out  a  distinct  truth. 
In  the  seventh  verse  we  have  the  setting  aside  of 
self;  in  the  eighth,  the  substitute  for  self;  in  the 
ninth,  the  way  in  which  this  substitution  has  come 
about. 

I.  The  setting  aside  of  self. — I  do  not  mean  anni- 
hilating self,  as  some  speak.  There  is  no  such 
thing,  save  in  the  dreams  of  a  vain  philosophy,  or 

a  self-righteous  mysticism.     I  speak  of  giving  self 
235 


236  SELF  OR  CHRIST  ; 

its  proper  plaee, — the  place  recognised  by  our  Lord, 
when  he  said,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thv  neighbour  as 
thyself."  Lawful  self-love  is  not  selfishness ;  yet  we 
may  say  that  selfishness  is  diseased  self-love;  and, 
as  such,  is  the  master-sin,  the  master-curse  of  man. 
He  lives  for  self;  his  estimate  of  everything  is  its 
bearing  upon  self;  the  colour  which  he  casts  over 
everything  is  one  derived  from  self.  Self  is  the 
horizon  which  limits  all  his  views.  He  is  not  like 
a  man  looking  round  on  a  noble  landscape,  and  for- 
getting himself  in  the  beauty  of  the  wide  expanse ; 
but  he  is  like  a  man  carrying  a  mirror  with  him,  into 
which  he  is  continually  looking,  that  he  may  see 
and  admire  himself;  so  that  every  object  is  seen 
in  connection  with  self,  and  is  only  admired  as 
it  helps  to  set  off  self.  The  apostle's  statement 
presents  the  reversal  of  all  this.  It  shews  us  the 
mirror  broken,  into  which  we  looked  so  compla- 
cently ;  the  eye  turned  outward  instead  of  inward ; 
the  horizon  thrown  back  into  the  far  distance,  self- 
forgotten,  lost  sight  of — "  None  of  us  liveth  to  him- 
self, and  none  of  us  dieth  to  himself."  We  have 
done  with  self,  at  least,  in  the  way  in  which  we 
have  hitherto  been  connected  with  it.  It  is  dis- 
placed. It  is  brought  down  to  its  true  position 
and  level;  it  is  set  aside  entirely  as  an  end,  or 
motive  ;  and  this,  not  in  one  thing,  but  in  every- 
thing ;  for  we  may  take  the  words,  life  and  death, 
not  merely  as  expressive  of  the  very  things  that 
they  mean,  but  as  bringing  before  us  the  two  ex- 
tremes of  man's  being,  and  including,  of  course, 


which  is  it  ?  237 

everything  between  these  two  extremities.  This 
displacement  of  self,  then,  is  carried  through  man's 
whole  being,  from  one  extremity  to  the  other. 
From  his  life  and  from  his  death,  as  well  as  from 
all  between,  this  self  has  been  displaced. 

Now,  mark  how  this  process  is  carried  oat.  The 
first  setting  aside  of  self  is  in  the  matter  of  justifi- 
cation before  God ;  for,  previously,  self  was  the 
main  ingredient  in  man's  theory  of  justification. 
His  object  was  to  amend  self,  to  improve  self,  or 
it  might  be,  to  mortify  self,  in  order  that  thereby 
he  might  recommend  himself  to  God.  Thus  self, 
in  the  matter  of  his  justification  before  God,  occu- 
pied the  chief  place.  The  first  thing  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  does,  when  he  convinces  a  man  of  sin, 
is  to  shew  that  this  cannot  be  ;  that  self  can  con- 
tribute nothing  towards  his  acceptance  with  God. 
What  is  conviction  of  sin  but  just  the  setting 
aside  of  self ;  a  negative,  but  still  an  important, 
step  ;  shewing  a  man  what  cannot  justify  him 
before  shewing  him  what  can.  Thus  it  is,  then, 
in  the  matter  of  justification  before  God,  that 
the  setting  aside  of  self  begins.  From  that  point 
it  proceeds  onwards  throughout  a  man's  whole 
life.  From  life,  in  all  its  parts  and  movements, 
great  and  small,  his  inner  life,  his  outer  life,  his 
domestic  life,  his  social  life,  self  is  displaced.  Life 
is  no  longer  tinged  or  shaded,  or  discoloured  hy 
self  as  it  had  once  been.  And  then  the  close  of  his 
life,  in  like  manner,  exhibits  the  setting  aside  of 
self.     On  a  sick-bed  self  is  set  aside ;  in  dying,  self 


238  SELF  OR  CHRIST  ; 

is  not  allowed  to  come  in.  Nor  in  dying,  are  we  to 
exhibit  self  or  turn  the  eye  either  of  ourselves  or 
others  to  it ;  or  to  think  merely  of  enjoyment,  or  com- 
fort, or  reputation  among  men,  our  good  name,  our 
fame  after  death, — posthumous  fame,  as  men  vainly 
call  it.  In  reference  to  all  these  points  self  is  set 
aside, — "  None  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man 
dieth  to  himself."  Others  may  live  to  themselves, 
but  not  we  who  have  been  "  bought  with  a  price." 
Others  may  die  to  themselves,  but  not  we  who  have 
been  "  redeemed  with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ." 

How  this  elevates  life  !  What  was  that  which 
degraded  life  ?  It  was  the  introduction  of  self. 
Now,  this  element  of  degradation  is  set  aside,  and 
life  is  lifted  up  into  its  true  glory, — the  true  posi- 
tion which  God  originally  designed  for  man.  It  is 
no  longer  the  degraded  thing  that  self  has  made  it, 
but  a  glorious  thing  such  as  God  meant  it  to  be. 

How  this  takes  away  life's  littlenesses  !  What 
was  it  that  introduced  so  much  of  narrowness  into 
life,  into  every  part  of  life,  and  its  daily  transac- 
tions ?  It  was  the  infusion  of  self.  It  was  this  that 
made  life  feeble  and  little;  that  shrivelled  it  up, 
and  contracted  its  original  greatness.  But  now  that 
this  element  is  set  aside  and  expelled,  life  expands 
to  its  true  dimensions.     Its  littlenesses  are  gone. 

How  this  establishes  and  strengthens  life  !  What 
was  the  element  of  our  weakness  ?  It  was  self. 
Yes ;  self  is  the  great  element  of  weakness,  for  it 
disconnects  us  with  the  foundation  of  strength.  It 
cuts  us  off  from  God.     It  isolates  and  makes  us 


WHICH  IS  IT  ?  239 

stand  alone.  But  now,  when  this  is  set  aside,  life 
assumes  the  strength  which  God  meant  it  to  pos- 
sess.    It  is  "  stablished,  strengthened,  settled." 

How  this  secures  us  against  all  failure  and  dis- 
appointment !  Why  was  it  that  we  failed  so  often 
in  our  schemes  ?  Because  we  lived  for  self.  Why 
was  it  that  we  were  often  disappointed  ?  It  was 
because  we  were  seeking  self;  but  now  that  this  is 
gone  we  cannot  fail,  we  cannot  be  disappointed  in 
anything,  for  we  know  that,  though  our  plans  and 
wills  are  crossed,  yet  God's  good  purpose  is  carried 
out,  his  ends  are  secured,  his  will  is  done.  There 
can  be  no  failure  now ;  no  disappointment  now ;  for 
that  which  made  failure  and  disappointment  neces- 
sary and  certain  has  been  wholly  set  aside.  Now 
we  go  forward  as  men  who  feel  that,  let  whatever 
may  come  upon  us,  upon  our  land,  or  upon  our 
world,  we  cannot  fail,  nor  be  disappointed.  All 
must  succeed,  all  must  be  well. 

II.  The  Substitute  for  self. — It  is  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  who  has  come  into  the  place  of  self,  filling 
up  its  room.  In  turning  from  self  we  do  not  leave 
ourselves  without  an  object  to  live  for,  or  to  die 
for:  we  get  one  infinitely  more  worthy  than  we 
possessed  before.  Instead  of  self  we  get  the  Son 
ol  God ;  the  glorious  one.  He  fills  us,  occupies  us, 
engrosses  us  henceforth.  He  is  all  to  us  what  self 
was  before.  He  takes  the  place  of  self  in  every- 
thing from  first  to  last,  great  or  small.  He  is  the 
Substitute  for  self,  first  of  all,  in  the  matter  of  our 


240  SELF  OR  CHRIST  J 

standing  before  God.  As  the  first  thing  the 
Holy  Spirit  does  is  to  set  aside  self,  in  the  matter 
of  justification  and  acceptance,  so  his  next  is 
to  present  to  us  the  Son  of  God  as  the  true 
ground  of  our  acceptance.  We  no  longer  seek 
to  be  justified  by  self  in  any  sense,  or  on  account 
of  anything  done  to  self ;  on  account  of  amended 
self,  or  improved  self ;  or  mortified  self,  but  solely 
on  account  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  died 
for  us  and  who  rose  again.  Having  taken  him 
in  the  place  of  self,  we  find  ourselves  at  once 
accepted  of  the  Father,  "  accepted  in  the  beloved," 
accepted,  not  because  self  has  been  improved,  but 
because  self  has  been  set  aside  and  the  Son  of  God 
substituted  in  its  room.  And  in  this  Son  of  God, 
whom  we  take  as  a  substitute  for  self,  in  the  mat- 
ter of  our  acceptance,  we  find  an  object  worth  living 
for,  an  object  that  we  can  carry  through  every- 
thing, through  every  part  of  life,  into  every  region 
of  life .  We  make  him  our  Alpha  and  Omega,  our 
first  and  our  last.  On  a  sickbed  our  object  is, 
that  Christ  should  be  glorified  whatever  becomes  of 
us.  On  a  deathbed  our  desire  is,  that  Christ  should 
be  magnified,  and  in  all  that  may  happen  to  our 
name  after  death,  in  anticipation  either  of  good 
report  or  of  bad  report  among  men,  our  sole  wish 
is,  that  the  name  of  Christ  should  be  exalted.  Thus, 
in  living  and  in  dying,  Christ  is  all.  He  has  come 
in  the  room  of  self,  and  fills  that  room  entirely. 
Our  life  is  thus  full  of  Christ,  and  so  is  our  death  ; 
u  Whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and 


WHICH  IS  IT  ?  241 

whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord:  so  that 
living  or  dying  we  are  the  Lord's."  You  are  not 
your  own  at  any  time,  nor  in  any  circumstances, 
but  his,  his  only. 

What  solemnity  is  thus  thrown  over  life  !  All  its 
parts,  all  its  movements,  are  now  consecrated  to  the 
Lord.  Up  till  the  time  when  this  substitution  takes 
place  our  life  is  a  wasted  one,  utterly  thrown  away. 
It  is  dedicated  to  self,  just  as  some  of  Egypt's  mag- 
nificent temples  of  old  were  consecrated  to  the  wor- 
ship of  some  reptile.  But  now  that  self  has  been 
cast  out,  and  Christ  introduced,  our  life  has  become 
a  sacred  thing  ;  every  part  of  it  is  consecrated, — 
made  "holy  unto  the  Lord." 

What  dignity  this  imparts,  both  to  life  and  death ! 
Let  it  be  the  life  or  death  of  the  poorest,  if  he  be  a 
believing  man,  a  man  in  Christ  Jesus,  what  a  dignity 
attaches  to  him  ;  a  dignity  that  attaches  to  no  other 
being  upon  earth,  not  even  to  its  mightiest  kings. 
From  the  moment  that  he  became  a  man  in  Christ 
Jesus,  living  not  to  himself  but  to  Christ,  all  little- 
ness vanished,  all  narrowness  and  meanness  were 
gone,  and  in  the  place  thereof  grandeur,  glory,  and 
heavenly  magnificence  thrown  around  his  person. 
What  a  change  ! 

What  importance  now  attaches  to  life  !  All 
triviality  has  passed  out  of  it.  It  has  now  become 
an  important  thing  either  to  live  or  to  die.  We 
have  got  something  worth  living  for,  and  something 
worth  dying  for  ;  and  in  circumstances  such  as 
these,  there  can  be  nothing  unimportant  about  life. 

Q 


242  SELF  OR  CHRIST  J 

The  end  we  live  for,  the  end  we  speak  for,  the  end 
we  act  for,  raises  life  up  to  an  importance  which 
nothing  else  could  have  done.  There  can  be  nothing 
little  now  about  anything  that  we  think,  speak,  or 
do. 

What  an  imperishable  character  is  thus  imparted 
to  life  !  Everything  we  do,  whether  in  living  or  in 
dying,  becomes  imperishable,  now  that  we  live  unto 
the  Lord  and  die  unto  the  Lord.  It  was  self  for- 
merly that  ruined  everything,  that  made  everything 
connected  with  us  to  crumble  down  and  waste  away. 
But  now  it  is  entirely  different.  The  Lord  has  come 
in  to  occupy  the  place  of  self.  He  is  come  in,  who 
is  "the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever,"  and 
he  imparts  his  immortality  to  us,  in  all  we  are 
and  do.  Now  nothing  dies,  but  everything  lives, 
and  that  for  ever,  for  it  is  done  unto  the  Lord. 
Every  word  spoken  for  him  has  an  eternal  being. 
Every  action  done  for  him  carries  its  results  forward 
into  eternity  ;  and  every  step  we  take,  if  taken  for 
him,  is  a  step  whose  effects  are  immortal,  as  is  our 
being,  and  as  is  the  being  of  him  who  h:  *,  by  his 
oneness  with  us,  attached  to  all  we  do  his  own  im- 
perishable character. 

What  an  incentive  to  zeal  this  gives  us  !  We  have 
now  got  something  to  do  that  is  really  worth  doing  ; 
an  object  worth  living  for  and  worth  dying  for. 
There  is  nothing  so  heartless  as  to  have  no  object 
in  life,  or  a  poor  object ;  and,  on  the  contrary,  there 
is  nothing  so  quickening,  so  animating,  as  to  have 
a  worthy  object.     How  mighty,  then,  must  be  the 


WHICH  IS  IT  ?  243 

impulse,  when  we  can  feel  that  our  life  is  a  life  to 
the  Lord,  that  our  death  is  a  death  to  the  Lord. 

What  a  reason  for  consistency  and  holiness  of  life  ! 
Everything  we  do  tells,  not  merely  upon  our  com- 
fort, on  our  earthly  prospects,  on  our  good  name, 
but  upon  the  glory  of  Christ.  We  have  now  be- 
come so  connected  with  him  that  everything  we 
speak  or  do  bears  upon  him  and  his  cause.  The 
consistency  of  a  holy  life  honours  him,  and  brings  a 
good  report  of  him  to  our  fellow-men.  How  watch- 
ful, then,  ought  we  to  be ;  how  jealous  over  ourselves, 
lest  self  should  assume  the  place  that  belongs  only 
to  the  Lord  ;  how  anxious  to  adorn  the  doctrine  of 
God  our  Saviour  in  all  things  ;  how  desirous  that 
our  life  should  be  a  consistent  witness-bearing  for 
Christ,  that  our  light  should  shine  before  men  ! 

Man  out  of  Christ,  I  speak  to  you  now.  What 
art  thou  living  for  ?  What  has  thy  past  life  been  ? 
what  is  thy  present  life  ?  What  are  thy  ends  in 
living  ?  What  is  thy  hope  in  dying  ?  The  very 
utmost,  I  fear,  is  this, — to  enjoy  present  things  as 
much  as  possible,  and  to  escape  hell  at  last.  Have 
your  ideas,  your  hopes,  your  aspirings,  ever  risen 
beyond  these  two  things  ?  Man  out  of  Christ, 
what  art  thou  living  for  ?  For  self  !  Is  that  all  ? 
What  a  poor  object,  what  a  mean  and  narrow  aim  ; 
and  what,  in  such  a  case,  must  thy  end  be  but 
utter  disappointment  and  eternal  failure  ?  Man 
out  of  Christ,  what  a  poor  life  must  thine  be,  and 
what  a  poor  death  !  What  an  unmeaning,  empty 
being  is  thine,  and  to  what  a  more  unmeaning,  more 


244  SELF  OR  CHRIST  ; 

empty  departure  out  of  it  art  thou  hastening.  And 
yet  how  different  it  might  be.  Why  should  not  thou, 
even  thou,  begin  to  live  unto  the  Lord  ?  What  a 
rich,  noble  life  might  thine  become.  Instead  of  a 
wasted,  shrivelled,  useless,  perishable  thing,  thou 
mightest  have  a  life  filled  up  for  God,  and  filled  up 
ivith  God ;  filled  up  for  Christ,  filled  up  with  Christ ; 
a  life  which,  though  in  so  far  as  this  world  is  con- 
cerned, may  be  a  life  of  poverty  and  obscurity,  yet 
would  be,  in  all  other  respects,  a  foretaste  of  ever- 
lasting life,  the  earnest  of  the  endless  glory.  And 
what  stands  between  thee  and  that  life  ?  It  is 
self,  the  accursed  thing.  What  separates  thee  from 
God  ?  It  is  self,  thy  love  of  self,  thy  admiration 
of  self,  thy  confidence  in  self.  What  is  it  that 
stands  between  thee  and  the  forgiveness  of  thy 
sins  ?  It  is  self ;  thy  confidence  in  self.  What  is 
it  that  comes  between  that  eye  of  thine  and  the 
vision  of  the  eternal  glory  ?  It  is  self.  It  is  self 
that  is  blinding  and  bewildering  thee.  What  is  it 
that  is  dragging  thee  down,  %  and  making  thee 
cleave  to  the  dust  ?  It  is  self.  And  what  is  it  that 
will  ere  long  be  thine  everlasting  ruin  ?  It  is  self. 
Oh,  that  thou  wouldest  begin  to  make  the  great 
substitution  of  Christ  for  self.  Put  Christ  where 
self  is,  in  the  matter  of  thy  justification  before  God, 
and  all  is  well.  Put  Christ  in  the  place  of  self,  in 
regard  to  the  forgiveness  of  thy  sins,  and  thou  art 
straightway  forgiven. 

III.    The  manner   in    which   this   substitution   is 


WHICH  IS  IT  ?  245 

effected — "For  to  this  end  Christ  both  died,  and 
rose,  and  revived,  that  he  might  be  Lord  both  of 
the  dead  and  the  living."  Christ's  claim  over  us  as 
Jehovah  is  eternal,  and  nothing  can  be  added  to  it. 
As  the  Eternal  Son  he  has  always  been  Lord  both 
of  the  dead  and  living,  of  heaven,  earth,  and  hell. 
But  his  claim  over  us  as  the  Christ  is  different  from 
his  Lordship  over  us  as  Jehovah.  His  claim  over 
us  as  the  Christ  is  a  superadded  claim.  It  is  not 
something  which  derogates  from,  or  which  neutra- 
lizes his  former  claim  ;  it  is  simply  something 
added  to  it.  This  claim  of  headship  over  us  he  has 
made  good  by  his  death  and  resurrection.  "  He 
died,  and  rose,  and  revived."  He  received  the 
resurrection  -  life  that  he  might  have  a  legal 
claim  to  Lordship  both  over  the  dead  and  living  ; 
so  that  there  might  be  no  part  of  a  man's  being, 
whether  pertaining  to  his  life  or  his  death,  over 
which  the  Christ  might  not  have  the  right  of 
Sovereignty.  Nor  can  any  one  dispute  his  claim  or 
present  a  rival  one,  for  no  other  has  done  what  he 
did  to  secure  it.  He  died  and  rose  again  ;  may  he 
not  demand  entire  Lordship  over  us  in  living  and 
in  dying  ?  Does  not  every  part  of  our  being  thus 
owe  him  allegiance  ?  To  whom  do  we  owe  homage 
save  to  him  ?  Who  has  done  for  us  what  Christ 
has  done  ?  Has  self  done  the  like  ?  Has  the  flesh 
done  the  like  ?  Has  the  world  done  the  like  ?  Has 
any  angel  done  the  like  ?  Has  any  fallen  man  done 
the  like,  that  we  should  serve  them,  and  that  they 
should  have  lordship  over  any  part  of  our  being  ? 


246  SELF  OR  CHRIST  J 

No  one  of  these.  He  alone  can  ask  homage  and 
headship  ;  for  He  only  has  the  divine  and  inde- 
feasible right.  He  has  won  the  dominion,  which 
none  can  now  dispute,  by  dying  and  by  rising.. 

Self,  then,  has  no  claims  upon  us,  for  it  has  done 
nothing  for  us,- — nothing  either  for  soul  or  for  body. 
It  has  been  a  wall  of  iron  between  us  and  Christ. 
Is  that  a  reason  that  we  should  serve  it  ?  It  has 
been  a  mountain  of  ice  between  us  and.  the  world  to 
come.  Is  that  a  ground  of  claim  over  us  ?  Nay, 
brethren,  self  has  done  nothing  to  make  us  either 
live  to  it  or  die  to  it.  It  never  can  do  anything  ; 
shall  we  then  own  it ;  shall  we  serve  it  ;  shall  we 
do  it  homage  ? 

The  Lord  has  every  claim.  We  have  asked, 
What  has  self  done  ?  We  ask  on  the  other  hand, 
What  has  the  Lord  not  done  ?  What  indissoluble, 
innumerable  bonds  are  there  between  us  and  him, 
as  the  living,  the  dying,  and  the  rising  one.  He 
claims  to  be  loved,  to  be  served.  Have  we  satisfied 
ourselves  as  to  the  ground  upon  which  that  claim 
rests  ?  Have  we  acknowledged  it,  and  is  our  whole 
life  in  every  point  an  acknowledgment  of  this  claim  ? 
The  whole  of  our  life  is  to  be  his,  as  his  life  was  for 
us.  Surely  he  has  earned  this,  if  he  has  earned 
anything  at  all.  The  least  that  we  can  give  him  is 
our  life ;  the  undivided  service  of  our  being,  in  every 
part ;  in  our  doing,  in  our  speaking,  in  our  planning, 
and  in  all  our  daity  round  of  business,  so  that  every 
part  of  our  life  shall  be  a  witness-bearing  for  him. 

Our  death  is  to  be  his.     In  dying  he  thought  on 


WHICH  IS  IT  ?  247 

us  ;  so  in  dying  let  us  think  on  him.  Our  death  is 
to  be  for  his  glory.  Our  last  testimony  is  to  be  a 
testimony  for  Christ.  Do  we  not  often,  in  looking 
upon  death-beds,  forget  this  ?  We  desire  from  the 
dying,  satisfaction  as  to  their  hope,  as  to  their 
peace,  but  that  is  all.  How  rarely  do  we  go 
beyond  that,  and  remember  that  there  is  to  be  no 
dying  for  self,  even  as  there  is  to  be  no  living  for 
self ;  and  that  there  is  something  beyond  getting 
satisfaction  of  our  friend's  state,  and  that  something 
is,  that  Christ  be  glorified,  that  the  saint's  testimony 
be  not  merely  as  to  his  own  peace,  or  as  to  his  own 
prospects,  but  as  to  the  glory  of  him  who  "  died 
for  us,  and  rose  again." 

Our  eternity  is  to  be  his.  He  ever  liveth  for  us ; 
let  us  anticipate  the  ever  living  for  him.  It  is  not 
merely  that  we  shall  be  for  ever  with  the  Lord  ; 
though  that  is  well ;  but  it  is  that  we  shall  for  ever 
glorify  him,  for  ever  live  to  him.  Our  whole  eter- 
nity is  to  be  one  of  obedience,  love,  service, — all 
for  his  glory,  for  "  Christ  is  all  and  in  all,"  whether 
in  heaven  or  on  earth.  He  is  so,  even  here,  in  some 
poor  measure,  to  those  who  have  tasted  that  the 
Lord  is  gracious,  but  in  the  eternal  kingdom  he  is 
to  be  still  more  fully  so.  Our  life  here,  and  still 
more  our  eternity  hereafter,  are  to  be  for  him.  He 
is  the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  our  life  here ;  still  more 
the  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  life  to  come. 

0  man  of  earth,  what  is  thy  eternity  to  be  ?  If 
thy  life  here  is  life  without  Christ,  is  thy  eternity 
to  be  the  same  ?    Think  what  such  an  eternity  will 


248  SELF  OR  CHRIST  J    WHICH  IS  IT  ? 

be  to  thee.  Even  if  there  were  no  hell,  what  will 
be  an  eternity  without  Christ  ?  Perhaps  thou 
thinkest  little  of  that  ;  and  thou  sayest  to  thyself, 
"  I  can  do  without  Christ  here,  and  I  shall  be  able 
to  do  without  him  hereafter."  Nay,  my  friend,  it 
is  not  so.  Thou  canst  do  without  him  here,  because 
thou  canst  contrive  to  forget  him, — to  forget  him 
in  the  world,  in  pleasure,  and  in  business  ;  and 
this  makes  thee  to  do  without  him  here.  But 
hereafter  there  shall  be  no  drowning  of  thy 
senses  in  such  things  as  these,  so  as  to  prevent 
the  conviction  of  thy  infinite  loss.  Then  the  full 
knowledge  of  thy  loss  shall  come  up  before  thee, 
and  it  will  not  be  a  lost  heaven  merely,  a  lost  king- 
dom, a  lost  inheritance,  but  it  will  be  A  lost  Christ. 
That  will  be  the  eternal  sting  ;  the  sense  of  what 
thou  hast  lost  in  losing  Christ.  It  will  be  the  very 
bitterness  of  the  cup  of  gall  and  wormwood  that 
shall  then  be  given  thee  to  drink.  The  everlasting 
sense  of  what  thou  hast  lost  in  losing  Christ  shall 
be  the  very  sting  of  the  undying  worm,  and  the 
very  torment  of  the  ever  burning  fire. 


SERMON  XXX. 


PRIMITIVE    DOUBTINGS,    AND   THEIR   CURE. 


"  When  the  Lord  had  thus  spoken,  he  shewed  them  his  hands  and  his 

feet." — Luke  xxiv.  40. 


There  are  two  special  points  which  I  ask  you  to 
notice  here  :  first,  the  doubts  of  the  disciples  ; 
secondly,  the  Lord's  way  of  meeting  them. 

1.  The  doubts  of  the  disciples. — There  were  some 
things  respecting  their  Master  which  these  disciples 
strangely  doubted  ;  and  there  were  other  things, 
which  they  as  strangely,  as  it  seems  to  us,  did  not 
doubt  at  all.  They  doubted  whether  he  were  risen, 
as  some  had  reported ;  but  they  had  no  doubt  that, 
if  he  were  risen,  all  was  well  with  them.  They 
doubted  whether  those  who  said  that  they  had  seen 
him  were  correct  in  their  statement  ;  but  they  had 
no  doubt  that,  if  these  witnesses  were  correct  in  their 
report,  they  had  no  further  ground  for  sorrow,  or 
doubt,  or  fear.  They  doubted  whether  this  person, 
who  now  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  were  really 
their  old  Master,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ;  but  they  had 
no  doubt  that,  if  this  were  really  he,  they  had 
abundant  cause  of  rejoicing. 

This  state  of  things  is  now  in  a  great  measure 

altered,  or  rather  reversed.     There  are  doubts  now 

249 


250  PRIMITIVE  DOTJBTINGS, 

as  to  points  on  which  there  were  no  doubts  then ; 
and  there  are  no  doubts  now  upon  points  which, 
among  the  first  disciples,  were  the  only  subjects  of 
doubt.  Seeing  that  this  is  the  case,  may  we  not 
suspect  that  there  is  something  wrong  with  many 
of  us  ;  wrong  at  the  very  root  ?  We  do  not 
doubt,  it  seems,  whether  Christ  has  risen  ;  but  we 
doubt  whether  this  resurrection  can  be  of  any  use 
to  us  personally,  or  wear  any  kindly  aspect  towards 
us,  till  we  have  succeeded  in  doing  or  feeling  some- 
thing to  make  it  available  and  beneficial  ;  as  if  the 
great  virtue  of  his  resurrection  did  not  flow  out  of 
that  event  itself,  but  out  of  those  acts  of  our  own 
which  we  mn3r  have  been  enabled  to  put  forth  in 
connection  with  it.  We  do  not  doubt  that  the  risen 
and  ascended  Jesus  is  actually  the  Christ  of  God, 
the  Saviour  of  the  world  ;  but  we  doubt  whether 
this  is  of  any  importance  to  us,  till  we  have  ascer- 
tained, according  to  the  most  approved  tests, 
whether  our  knowledge  and  faith  be  of  the  right 
kind  ;  that  is,  of  such  a  quality  as  to  warrant  us  to 
expect  that  this  risen  One  will  condescend  to  bless 
us  because  of  it.  We  do  not  doubt  that  this  Son 
of  God  is  near  us,  within  our  reach,  so  that  a  touch, 
a  word,  a  look,  may  in  a  moment  connect  us  with 
him ;  but  we  doubt  whether  this  nearness  be  in  itself 
a  matter  of  rejoicing,  until  we,  by  working  ourselves 
into  the  consciousness  of  "acting  faith"  on  this 
truth,  have  made  it  a  blessing :  as  if  the  use  of  faith 
were  not  at  once  and  directly  to  draw  joy  out  of  a 
thing  of  joy  ;  to  take  and  use,  for  purposes  of  im- 


AND  THEIR  CURE.  251 

mediate  peace  and  comfort,  the  simple  fact,  that 
Christ  is  risen  ;  but  to  put  gladness  into  a  fact 
which  otherwise  possesses  none. 

This  surely  is  unnatural,  and  founded  upon  a 
misapprehension  of  the  real  meaning  of  the  fact 
presented  to  us.  The  doubts  of  the  first  disciples, 
strange  as  they  seem  to  us,  were  natural,  in  their 
circumstances.  It  needed  no  small  amount  of  proof 
to  convince  them,  that  he  whom  they  had  seen 
crucified  on  Golgotha,  and  had  buried  with  their 
own  hands  in  Joseph's  tomb,  was  actually  risen  ; 
but,  that  proof  having  been  fully  given,  there  lay 
nothing  beyond  it  to  prevent  them  enjoying  the 
divine  fact,  and  rejoicing  in  the  risen  One. 
The  position  of  many  among  his  disciples  now  is  by 
no  means  so  intelligible.  We  admit  the  proof  of 
his  resurrection ;  we  own  him  as  the  Prince  of  Life, 
and  the  Conqueror  of  death ;  but  we  say  that  all 
this  is  nothing  to  us,  so  long  as  we  are  not  sure 
what  our  own  feelings  are,  or  what  the  quality  of 
that  faith  of  ours  is,  by  which  we  believe  in  this 
resurrection. 

This  mode  of  dealing  with  the  facts  of  the  Bible, 
ascribes  to  faith  what  belongs  to  Christ.  By  all 
means  let  us  render  to  faith  what  is  clue  to  faith ; 
but  let  us  not  forget  to  render  to  Christ  what  is  due 
to  him  alone.  Let  us  beware  of  ascribing  a  virtue 
to  our  faith }  which  belongs  to  His  resurrection. 

Our  method  of  treating  Christ's  resurrection  leads 
us  to  concentrate  our  expectations  upon  self,  and  on 
the  changes  to,  be  wrought  on  self.      It  makes  our 


252  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS, 

joy,  to  come,  not  at  once  from  the  certain  good  news 
of  what  the  Father  did  for  Christ  when  he  raised 
him  from  the  dead,  but  from  the  yet  uncertain 
consciousness  of  what  the  Holy  Spirit  is  to  do  for 
us  and  within  us.  It  says  that  the  sinner  is  not 
warranted  in  tasting  the  full  cup  of  blessing  which 
the  resurrection  of  Christ  presents,  till  he  has 
wrought  or  prayed  himself  into  a  more  suitable, 
more  receptive  frame  of  spirit  ;  forgetting  that 
nothing  save  the  direct  drinking  of  this  cup  can 
bring  about  this  better  and  more  blessed  frame. 

The  way  in  which  many  of  us  treat  the  death 
and  resurrection  of  Christ,  always  raises  questions 
as  to  personal  acceptance  and  fitness.  The  way  in 
which  the  early  disciples  treated  these,  never  raised 
any  question  pertaining  to  self  at  all.  Conscious 
of  no  goodness,  in  word,  or  deed,  or  feeling  ;  aware 
that  no  length  of  time  nor  earnestness  of  effort 
could  make  them  more  fit  or  more  acceptable  to 
Christ  ;  knowing  that  it  was  the  lost  that  Christ 
came  to  save,  the  very  last  thing  that  could  have 
entered  their  minds  was,  that  their  Master  would 
hesitate  about  receiving  any  sinner  that  would  apply 
to  him.  They  knew  well  about  men  refusing  to 
follow  him  ;  they  never  heard  of  his  refusing  to 
receive  one.  Altogether  satisfied  as  to  his  grace 
and  power  on  the  one  hand,  and  as  to  their  own 
poverty  and  emptiness  on  the  other,  there  was  no 
room  for  any  question,  about  self,  to  be  raised  at  all. 
If  he  were  the  Christ,  as  they  believed  him  to  be ; 
and  if  they  were  the  lost  ones,  as  they  knew  them- 


AND  THEIR  CURE.  253 

selves  to  be,  then  the  whole  matter  was  decided  at 
once  and  for  ever.  Thoughts  about  self,  and  faith, 
and  goodness,  could  have  no  place.  .  They  were 
excluded.  By  what  law  ?  Of  works  ?  No.  But 
by  that  divine  testimony,  which,  ages  before,  had 
announced,  "he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions, 
he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities." 

The  only  question  which,  during  his  lifetime, 
these  disciples  felt  that  they  needed  to  have  settled 
was,  "  Is  our  Master  really  the  Christ  ?"  The 
only  question  which,  after  his  death,  they  hesitated 
about,  was,  "  Is  our  Master  really  risen,  and  is  he, 
who  now  appears  in  the  midst  of  us,  the  same  as 
he  who  formerly  went  out  and  in  among  us,  doing 
the  mighty  wonders  which  demonstrated  that  he 
was  truly  the  Christ  ?" 

And,  after  all  that  has  been  said,  and  written, 
and  disputed  ;  after  all  that  has  been  advanced  as 
to  inward  evidences  and  preparatory  experiences, 
this  is  the  one  great  question  still,  Is  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  in  very  deed  the  Christ  of  God  ?  Has 
he  died  ?  Was  he  buried  ?  Has  he  risen  ? 
These  are  the  questions  which  we  should  still  feel 
to  be  the  vital  and  the  lawful  ones,  had  we  any 
right  apprehension  of  the  state  of  matters  between 
us  and  God. 

But  did  the  disciples  make  of  no  account  the 
question  of  their  own  acceptance  ?  They  did  not. 
But  they  saw  it  as  so  entirely  included  in,  or  at 
least  so  inseparably  connected  with,  the  question 
of  his  resurrection,  that  if  the  one  were  conclusively 


254  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS,  AND  THEIR  CURE. 

settled,  the  settlement  of  the  other  followed,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  without  difficulty  or  delay. 

Not  that  they  were  accepted  before  they  believed, 
or  whether  they  believed  or  not  ;  not  that  they 
were  to  believe  themselves  accepted  and  forgiven, 
in  order  to  be  accepted  and  forgiven,  as  some 
would  frame  the  Gospel.  No  ;  but  the  knmdedge 
of  Christ,  in  his  person  and  propitiatory  work,  was 
understood  to  be  so  necessarily  aud  inevitably  the 
introduction  to  acceptance  and  pardon,  that  they  did 
not  suppose  it  possible  to  know  the  Divine  testi- 
mony concerning  Christ,  without  being,  thereupon 
and  thereby,  justified  and  blest.  To  know  him,  as 
crucified  for  sin,  was  to  be  "  crucified  with  Christ." 
To  know  him  as  dead,  was  to  be  "  dead  with 
Christ."  To  know  him  as  buried,  was  to  be 
"  buried  with  Christ."  To  know  him  as  risen,  was 
to  be  "  risen  with  Christ."  To  receive  the  Father's 
testimony  respecting  him,  as  crucified,  dead,  buried, 
risen,  and  ascended,  was,  in  the  very  act  of  receiv- 
ing it,  to  enter  into  the  state  of  "no  condemna- 
tion," to  get  possession  of  eternal  life,  to  be  "ac- 
cepted in  the  Beloved."  The  object  of  the  Holy 
Spirit's  work  was,  not  to  concentrate  their  thoughts 
upon  themselves,  or  introduce  them  to  the  know- 
ledge of  their  own  acts  of  faith  and  love,  but  to  fix 
their  eye  upon  another,  to  introduce  them  directly 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  risen  Son  of  God.  The 
saving  vision  was  one,  into  which  no  element  of 
self  could  enter  :  it  was  the  vision  of  "  the  glory 
of  God  in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ." 


SERMON   XXXI. 


PRIMITIVE   DOUBTINGS,    AND   THEIR   CURE. 


"  When  the  Lord  had  thus  spoken,  he  shewed  them  his  hands  and  his 

feet." — Luke  xxiv.  40. 


The  light  in  which  the  disciples  viewed  the  great 
facts  respecting  this  dead  and  risen  Substitute,  never 
raised  the  question  of  their  own  acceptance ;  or  at 
least,  in  raising  it,  settled  it  at  once  and  for  ever. 
Our  way  of  regarding  these,  seems  only  to-  raise  the 
question,  not  to  settle  it ;  nay,  it  makes  the  settle- 
ment of  it  one  of  the  most  subtle,  prolonged,  and 
intricate  processes  which  a  tried  soul  ever  under- 
took. According  to  the  apostles,  the  adjustment 
of  the  personal  question  was  the  simple  and  imme- 
diate result  of  their  knowledge  of  the  risen  Christ. 
According  to  many  of  us,  peace  with  God  can  only 
be  the  result  of  the  knowledge  of  self,  or  rather  of 
the  begun  improvement  of  self,  in  addition  to  the 
knowledge  of  Christ ;  the  fruit  of  a  lifetime's  hard 
experience ;  the  inference  from  an  algebraic  sum- 
mation of  doubtino;s  and  believing  •  the  termina- 

O  CD       ' 

tion  of  one  of  the  most  tedious  and  painful  pro- 
cesses of  metaphysical  analysis  and  mental  scrutiny 
ever  attempted  by  man.  Strange,  that  the  know- 
ledge of  a  risen  Christ,  which,  in  apostolic  days, 

255 


256  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTTNGS, 

was  the  ending  of  all  doubt,  and  suspicion,  and  per- 
plexity, should,  in  our  day,  with  so  many,  be  only 
the  beginning  of  these.  Strange,  that  that  which 
was  once  the  settlement  of  every  personal  question 
between  the  soul  and  God,  should  now  be  the 
signal  for  letting  loose  all  such  questions,  and  letting 
them  loose  in  a  way  which  makes  it  impossible 
that  they  can  ever  be  conclusively  adjusted. 
Strange,  that  that  which  was  meant  to  throw  men 
entirely  out  of  self,  either  righteous  or  unrighteous 
self,  by  handing  them  over  to  the  Divine  Substitute, 
should  be  the  very  thing  which  now  is  employed 
for  throwing  them  into  self ;  thus  degrading  the 
Sinbearer,  and  converting  into  a  secondary  remedy 
his  completed  propitiation  on  the  cross. 

God's  plan,  in  his  glorious  gospel,  was  to  reach 
self  by  means  of  Christ;  our  plan  is,  to  reach 
Christ  by  means  of  self.  To  be  satisfied  with 
Christ,  was  the  primitive  way  of  peace  and  forgive- 
ness; to  be  satisfied  with  self,  in  addition  to  Christ, 
is  the  modern  plan  of  many :  as  if  the  other  were 
too  free  and  too  simple ;  as  if  the  peace  obtained  in 
the  primitive  way  were  too  liable  to  abuse,  and 
therefore  needing  a  check  and  safeguard,  to  protect 
the  threatened  interests  of  holiness. 

To  be  satisfied  with  Christ,  is  surely,  of  itself,  life 
and  gladness,  as  well  as  the  destruction  of  sin.  To 
be  satisfied  with  self,  in  addition  to  this,  is  to  add 
to  the  finished  propitiation  of  the  Son  of  God,  and 
to  cast  doubts  upon  the  efficacy  of  his  cross.  To 
seek  to  be  satisfied  with  self,  in  order  to  be  satisfied 


AND  THEIR  CURE.  257 

with  Christ,  or  to  make  Christ  satisfied  with  us,  is 
the  introduction  of  one  of  the  subtlest  forms  of  self- 
righteousness,  by  means  of  which,  combined  Popery 
and  Arminianism  ever  subverted  the  free  grace  of 
God,  and  rebuilt  the  barrier  between  the  sinner  and 
the  kingdom,  which  the  Son  of  God  had  thrown 
down.  To  be  satisfied  with  Christ,  is  the  simplest, 
purest,  brightest  form  of  faith.  To  be  satisfied 
with  self,  is  the  darkest  and  deadliest  form  of  self- 
righteous  unbelief.  To  recognise  the  completeness, 
personal  and  vicarious,  of  the  Christ  of  God,  dying 
and  rising  for  sinners, — this  is  peace,  this  is  life, 
this  is  sunshine.  To  begin  to  think  about  our 
own  act  of  recognition,  in  order  to  ascertain 
its  completeness  and  perfection, — this  is  the 
entrance  of  gloom,  and  trouble,  and  doubt;  nay, 
this  is,  in  many  cases,  the  first  step  of  apos- 
tasy ;  this  is  to  renounce  the  cross,  and  to  fall  from 
grace. 

II.  The  Lord's  way  of  meeting  the  doubts  of  the 
disciples. — "  He  shewed  them  his  hands  and  his 
feet."  That  which  they  doubted  was,  whether  this 
Stranger  who  had  come  to  them,  and  who  looked 
so  like  their  old  Master,  were  in  very  deed  himself. 
If  he  were,  then  he  must  have  risen  from  the  dead  ; 
for  they  saw  him  die,  nay,  they  had  buried  him. 
If  this  were  he,  then  all  had  come  true  which  he  had 
spoken  of  himself,  and  which  the  prophets  had 
spoken  concerning  him.  He  was  now  doubly  de- 
monstrated to  be  the  Christ.      That  which  he  had 

K 


258  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS, 

spoken  to  them  concerning  his  rising  from  the  dead 
was  no  vain  thing ;  and  now  they  saw  in  him,  not 
only  all  that  they  had  seen  before,  but  much  more. 
As  the  dying  Christ,  he  was  much  more  to  them 
than  the  living  Christ  ;  but  as  the  risen  Christ, 
he  was  more  than  the  dying  Christ.  The  seed  had 
not  only  been  sown  and  taken  root,  but  was  now 
springing  up  into  a  glorious  tree. 

His  object,  then,  in  shewing  them  his  hands 
raid  his  feet,  was  not  onljr  to  convince  them  that 
he  was  no  spectre,  no  shadow  ;  but  that  he  was  the 
very  Christ  who  had  been  crucified.  The  nail-prints 
were  the  proof,  not  only  that  he  had  died,  but  that  he 
had  triumphed  over  death ;  that,  though  "crucified 
through  weakness,  he  lived  again  by  the  power  of 
God."  The  sin  had  been  borne;  the  blood  had 
been  shed;  the  sacrifice  offered  up ;  the  penalty  paid ; 
the  law  satisfied  ;  righteousness  honoured  ;  Satan 
baffled ;  death  overcome.  Of  all  these  things  the 
nail-prints  assured  them.  They  were  the  chief  of 
the  "many  infallible  proofs"  (Acts  i.  3)  given  to  his 
disciples  of  his  true  resurrection. 

Strange  as  this  kind  of  recognition,  this  way  of 
fixing  the  doubted  identity,  may  seem,  it  was 
satisfactory.  The  mother  in  the  story  knew  her 
long-lost  child  by  the  scar  on  the  shoulder  received 
in  infancy  ;  so  was  the  Son  of  God  recognised  by 
the  nail-prints  and  the  bruises  of  the  cross.  But 
did  the  disciples  need  this?  Were  the  loved  features 
not  the  same  as  ever?  Were  the  eyes  that  wept  over 
Jerusalem  not  the  same  as  before ;  or  had  the  grave 


AND  THEIR  CURE.  259 

robbed  them  of  their  tenderness  and  lustre?  Were 
the  lips,  from  which  came  the  gracious  words  of 
parting  love,  not  the  same  as  in  the  upper  chamber 
at  the  Last  Supper?  Was  the  voice  so  altered,  that 
they  did  not  know  its  tones  ?  No.  These  resem- 
blances might  all  be  recognised ;  but  so  many  things 
threw  doubt  upon  these  recognitions,  and  they  were 
so  slow  of  heart  to  believe  what  the  prophets  had 
spoken,  that,  instead  of  reasoning  in  favour  of  his 
identity  from  the  fact  that  he  professed  to  be  risen 
from  the  dead,  they  stumbled  at  this  stumbling- 
stone,  and  raised  doubts  out  of  the  very  events 
which  ought  to  have  dissipated  all.  It  was  not 
till  they  had  seen  him  die  that  they  would  believe 
that  he  could  die  ;  and  now  not  even  their  own 
eyes  will  convince  them  that  he  is  risen  ;  so  little 
did  they  understand  what  Messiah  was  to  be,  and 
to  do,  and  to  suffer.  Their  one  redeeming  point  was 
attachment  to  his  person.  Of  his  sacrificial  work 
they  knew  but  little  ;  of  his  blood-shedding  they 
had  but  slenderly  felt  their  need ;  into  the  profound 
significance  of  his  death  they  had  not  yet  entered. 
But  to  his  person  they  were  attached,  with  all  the 
warmth  of  true-hearted  friendship.  And  it  is  of 
this  personal  attachment  that  the  Lord  is  making 
use,  to  lead  them  into  the  deeper,  truer  knowledge 
of  his  mighty  work. 

They  were  to  be  made  to  recognise  him  by  liis 
wounds  ;  his  healed,  but  still  visible  wounds  ;  the 
scars  of  the  cross,  the  marks  of  suffering  and  death. 
Their  unbelief  was  to  be  allowed  so  to  come  out, 


260  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS, 

that  nothing  would  remove  it,  but  that  which 
proved  him  to  be  the  very  kind  of  person  they  had 
all  along  shrunk  from  acknowledging, — One  who 
must  die  in  order  to  bless  them.  Their  former 
faith  in  his  person  had  been  shaken  (founded  as  it 
was  on  very  imperfect  knowledge)  ;  and  that  which 
was  to  reassure  them  was  his  wounds.  The  old 
chords  that  fastened  them  to  his  person  had  been 
shaken  and  strained,  till  they  had  almost  snapped  ; 
and  the  new  link,  which  was  to  knit  them  more 
firmly  than  ever  to  his  person,  was  that  which 
fastened  itself,  not  so  much  to  his  person,  as  to  his 
work  as  the  Substitute.  They  had  known  him  as 
the  seed  of  the  woman  ;  they  were  now  to  know 
him  as  the  Man  with  the  bruised  heel,  "  the  Lamb 
as  it  had  been  slain." 

It  was  with  this  same  blessed  evidence  that  the 
staggering  faith  of  Thomas  was  held  up,  when 
nothing  save  the  sight  of  the  nail-prints  could 
reassure  him ;  and  it  was  on  similar  ground  that 
the  beloved  John  was  comforted  in  Patmos,  when 
he  fell  at  the  feet  of  the  glorious  one.  This  same 
Jesus  laid  his  right  hand  on  him,  and  said,  "  Fear 
not,  I  am  the  First  and  the  Last  ;  I  am  he  that 
liveth  and  was  dead."  It  is  thus  that  he  approaches 
us  still,  and  shews  us  his  hands  and  his  feet,  that 
by  these  scars  we  may  be  made  to  feel  that  he  is 
in  very  deed  the  Christ  that  we  need.  And  in 
in  doing  so,  he  shews  us  the  true  way  of  dispelling 
doubt,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  viz.,  the  fuller 
knowledge  of  himself,  as  the  dead,  the  buried,  the 


AND  THEIR  CURE.  261 

risen,  and  living  Christ.  It  is  this  that  is  the  cure 
of  all  unbelief,  the  death  of  doubting,  the  cherish er 
of  faith,  the  perpetual  source  of  stability  and  peace ; 
for  the  real  cause  of  all  doubting  is  imperfect  know- 
ledge of  the  Lord. 

Nor  let  any  one  say,  I  know  all  that  I  can  know, 
both  of  himself  and  of  his  work.  He  that  says 
this,  knows  nothing  yet  as  he  ought  to  know. 
When  doubt  arises,  and  unbelief  gets  the  mastery, 
and  estrangement  comes  in,  let  the  first  thought 
be, — Could  this  have  taken  place,  had  I  fully 
known  him  whom  I  profess  to  have  received  ;  and 
will  not  another  look  at  him,  another  glimpse  at 
his  glorious  person  and  deep- scarred  wounds,  fully 
reassure  me,  and  rebuke  all  alarm  or  distrust  ? 

He  shews  you  once  more  his  hands  and  his  feet, 
that  through  them  you  may  know  him,  by  these 
"infallible  proofs,"  to  be  the  very  Christ  you  need, 
both  for  heart  and  for  conscience.  The  Christ  we 
need  is  such  a  Christ  as  will  not  only  reveal  the 
immeasurable  love  of  God,  but  convince  our  con- 
sciences as  to  the  lawfulness  of  that  love,  by  shewing 
us  the  life,  the  death,  the  resurrection  of  a  divine 
Substitute,  through  means  of  whom  this  love  to  the 
sinner  is  enabled  to  give  itself  out  lawfully  and 
righteously  to  man. 

He  is  the  Christ  of  Bethlehem  ;  the  Child  that 
was  born,  the  Son  that  was  given.  But  this  is  not 
enough.  Mere  incarnation  falls  short  of  our  wants, 
and  fails  to  pacif}^  the  conscience. 

He  is   the  Christ  of  Nazareth  ;  the  Man  that 


262  PRIMITIVE  DOUBTINGS. 

dwelt  among  sinners,  and  shewed  the  love  of  God 
to  sinners     But  this  is  not  enough. 

He  is  the  Christ  of  Capernaum  ;  the  great  worker 
of  miracles,  the  healer  of  the  sick,  the  raiser  of  the 
dead,  the  feeder  of  the  hungry,  the  utterer  of  the 
most  gracious  words  that  ever  fell  on  the  ear  of 
man.  But  this  will  not  purge  the  conscience,  or 
secure  our  peace  with  God. 

Accordingly,  he  shews  himself  as  the  Christ  of 
Gethsemane,  the  Christ  of  Golgotha,  the  Christ  of 
Joseph's  tomb.  And  what  shall  we  more  say  ? 
Who,  after  the  proof  that  is  given  of  death  and 
resurrection,  can  persist  in  doubting,  or  refuse  to 
be  comforted  ?  And,  if  these  gracious  facts  will 
not  cheer  and  revive,  what  is  there  that  will  do  it 
in  earth  or  heaven  ?  Look  at  him  with  prolonged 
gaze.  See  him  as  he  was  and  is  ;  as  the  dead,  the 
buried,  the  risen  One.  Look  at  his  hands,  his  feet, 
his  side.  These  scars,  though  healed,  are  allowed 
to  remain,  just  on  purpose  to  meet  your  doubts, 
and  banish  your  distrust.  He  who  raised  him  from 
the  dead,  left  these  scars  still  visible,  these  marks 
of  death  and  weakness,  these  memorials  of  the  cross 
and  its  nails,  in  order,  by  means  of  them,  to  speak 
to  you,  to  give  you  demonstration  of  his  true  death 
and  true  resurrection,  that  thereby  you  might  be 
comforted  exceedingly,  nay,  be  like  those  of  whom 
it  is  written,  "  Then  were  the  disciples  glad  when 
they  saw  the  Lord." 


SERMON  XXXII. 

CHRIST  AND   THE   WORLD. 

"What  fellowship  hath  righteousness  with  unrighteousness?" — 2  Cor. 
vi.  14. 

"The  friendship  of  the  world  is  enmity  with  God.'' — Jas.  iv.  4. 

Worldly  people  seem  to  be  well  aware  that  it  is 
only  in  this  life  that  they  will  be  able  to  get  vent 
to  their  worldliness.  They  quite  count  upon  death 
putting  an  end  to  it  all;  and  this  is  one  of  the  main 
reasons  for  their  dread  of  death,  and  their  dislike 
even  of  the  thoughts  of  it. 

They  know  that  there  will  be  no  "  worldliness " 
in  "the  world  to  come;"  that  there  will  be  no 
money-making,  nor  pleasure-finding,  nor  feasting, 
nor  revelling;  no  balls,  nor  races,  nor  theatres,  in 
heaven  or  in  hell.  Hence  their  eagerness  to  taste 
"life's  glad  moments,"  to  take  their  fill  of  mirth, 
to  make  the  best  of  this  life  while  it  lasts;  and 
hence  the  origin  of  their  motto,  "  Let  us  eat  and 
drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die." 

Such  are  the  out-and-out  "lovers  of  pleasure," 
the  worshippers  of  the  god  of  this  world,  the  ad- 
mirers of  vanity,  the  indulgers  of  the  flesh.     They 

do  not  profess  to  be  "  religious ;"  but  rather  take 
263 


264  CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD. 

pains  to  shew  that  they  are  not  so,  and  boast  that 
they  are  not  hypocrites. 

But  pleasure  won't  clo  always;  and  this  world 
will  not  last  for  ever ;  and  vanity  will  soon  pass 
away;  and  the  flesh  will  cease  to  satisfy.  And 
when  all  these  things  come  to  an  end,  what  will  be 
the  condition  of  those  whose  gods  they  were  ? 
Cheated,  befooled,  despairing,  their  blossom  shall 
go  up  as  dust,  and  they  themselves  shall  lie  down 
in  sorrow.  Their  idols  are  broken  in  pieces,  and 
they  find  at  last  that  they  have  trusted  in  a  lie, 
and  that  now,  when  most  they  needed  succour, 
they  have  none  to  succour  them;  they  are  left 
without  a  god,  without  light,  without  help,  without 
even  so  much  as  the  hope  of  a  hope,  or  the  faintest 
glimmer  of  a  dawn,  in  that  long  night  which,  after 
their  merry  day  of  pleasure,  has  fallen  so  thickly 
over  them. 

Ah,  yes ;  the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away ; 
and  they  who  have  followed  that  fashion,  and  iden- 
tified themselves  with  that  world,  will  find  too  late 
that,  in  gaining  the  world,  they  have  lost  their 
souls;  that,  in  filling  up  time  with  vanity,  they 
have  filled  eternity  with  gloom ;  that,  in  snatching 
at  the  pleasures  of  earth,  they  have  lost  the  joys 
of  heaven,  and  the  glories  of  the  everlasting  inhe- 
ritance. Yes,  life  is  brief,  and  time  is  swift;  gene- 
rations come  and  go ;  graves  open  and  close  each 
day;  old  and  young  vanish  out  of  sight;  riches 
depart,  and  honours  fade  ;  autumn  follows  summer, 
and  winter  soon  wipes  out  every  trace  of  leaf  and 


CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD.  265 

blossom ;  nothing  abides,  or  remains  unchanging, 
but  the  blue  sky  and  the  everlasting  hills  !  0  man, 
dying  man,  dweller  on  a  dying  earth,  living  amid 
sickbeds  and  deathbeds,  and  funerals  and  graves, 
surrounded  by  fallen  leaves  and  faded  blossoms, 
the  sport  of  broken  hopes,  and  fruitless  joys,  and 
empty  dreams,  and  fervent  longings,  and  never- 
healing,  never-ending  heartaches  ; — 0  man,  dying 
man,  wilt  thou  still  follow  vanity  and  lies  ;  still 
chase  pleasure  and  gaiety  ;  still  sow  the  wind,  and 
reap  the  whirlwind  ?  After  all  that  has  been  told 
thee  of  earth's  weariness,  and  pleasure's  emptiness ; 
after  all  that  thou  thyself  hast  experienced  of  the 
poverty  of  all  things  here  below  ;  after  having  been 
so  often  disappointed,  mocked,  and  made  miserable 
by  that  world  which  thou  worshippest ;  wilt  thou 
still  pursue  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the 
eye,  and  the  pride  of  life  ? 

"  Who  lias  felt  the  desolation 

Of  the  earthquake's  dreadful  reign, 
And  would  seek  the  same  foundation 
For  his  peaceful  bower  again  ?  " 

0  follower  of  the  world,  consider  thy  ways  and 
ponder  thy  prospects.  Look  behind  thee,  and  see 
the  utter  emptiness  of  the  past.  Look  before  thee, 
and  make  sure  of  something  better  and  more  sub- 
stantial. Look  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left, 
and  see  the  weary  crowds,  seeking  rest,  and  finding 
none.  Look  beneath  thee,  to  that  eternal  fire 
which  is  preparing  for  all  that  forget  God.  Look 
above  thee,  and  see  that  bright  heaven,  with  all  its 


266  CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD. 

unutterable  gladness,  which  thou  art  so  madly 
despising.  Think,  too,  of  thy  brief  time  on  earth, 
lent  thee,  in  God's  special  love,  to  accomplish  thy 
preparation  for  the  eternal  kingdom.  And,  when 
thou  considerest  these  things,  rouse  thyself  from 
thy  dream  of  pleasure,  and  rest  not  till  thou  hast 
made  good  the  entrance  at  the  strait  gate  which 
leadeth  unto  life. 

But  these  out-and-out  lovers  of  pleasure  are, 
after  all,  not  the  most  mvsterious  class,  nor  the  most 
difficult  to  deal  with:  for  we  know  exactly  what 
they  are,  and  what  they  are  seeking  ;  for  they  do 
not  disguise  their  worldliness,  nor  treat  it  as  a  thing 
to  be  cloaked  or  apologised  for. 

There  are  other  classes  of  a  much  more  uncertain 
and  indefinite  kind,  whose  object  seems  to  be  to 
get  hold  of  both  worlds.  They  want  to  infuse  as 
much  religion  into  their  life,  their  doings,  their 
conversation,  as  will  make  them  be  reckoned 
religious  men  ;  at  least,  save  them  from  the  im- 
putation of  being  worldly  men.  But  they  want 
also  as  much  of  worldly  comfort  and  pleasure  as 
will  ^ratifv  the  tastes  of  a  still  unrenewed  nature. 
Their  life  is  a  compromise  ;  and  their  object  is  to 
balance  between  two  adverse  interests,  to  adjust 
the  conflicting  claims  of  this  world  and  of  the  world 
to  come  ;  to  please  and  to  serve  two  masters,  to 
gratify  two  tastes,  to  walk  in  two  opposite  ways  at 
once,  to  secure  the  friendship  of  the  world  without 
losing  the  friendship  of  Gud. 

The  character  as  well  as  the  life  of  these  men  is 


CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD.  267 

undecided  and  feeble.  They  are  not  decided  in 
their  worldliness,  and  they  are  not  decided  in  their 
religion.  If  they  were  compelled  to  choose  between 
their  two  masters,  the  probability  is  that  they 
would  prefer  the  world  ;  for  their  heart  is  not  in 
their  religion,  and  religion  is  not  in  their  heart. 
Religion  is  irksome  to  them ;  it  is  a  yoke,  not  a 
pleasant  service.  They  don't  want  to  part  with  it, 
for  several  good  reasons ;  but  they  have  no  delight 
in  it.  Their  consciences  would  not  allow  them  to 
throw  it  off;  but  it  occupies  a  very  small  part  of 
their  thoughts  and  affections.  They  are,  in  fact, 
worldly  men  varnished  over  with  religion  ;  that  is 
all.  They  are  made  up  of  two  parts,  a  dead  and  a 
living  ;  the  living  part  is  the  world,  the  dead  is 
religion. 

There  are  many  of  these  in  our  day,  when  religion 
is  fashionable.  When  religion  is  unfashionable, 
there  are  few;  when  it  is  scoffed  at,  still  fewer; 
when  it  is  persecuted,  hardly  any.  But  when  it  is 
in  fashion,  they  are  numerous.  They  may  go  under 
many  names, — formalists,  externalists,  half-hearted 
Christians,  half-and-half  disciples ;  they  may  put  on 
more  or  less  of  religion ;  they  may  indulge  more  or 
less  in  worldliness  ;  still,  the  class  I  speak  of  is,  in 
all  circumstances,  substantially  the  same.  They 
have  never  broken  with  sin,  nor  crucified  self,  nor 
taken  up  the  cross.  Whatever  their  lives  or 
their  words  may  be,  their  heart  is  not  right  with 
God. 

Some  of  these  are  men  who  have  been  brought 


268  CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD. 

up  in  worldliness,  and  who  have,  as  they  grew  up, 
added  a  little  religion  to  their  worldliness,  to  make 
it  respectable.  Others  have  been  religiously  brought 
up  from  childhood ;  they  have  been  well  taught  in 
the  things  of  Christ ;  they  have  had  their  religious 
impressions,  some  deeper,  some  shallower;  and 
these  have  remained  for  a  season,  so  as  to  mould 
their  character  and  life  considerably.  But  such 
feelings  have  never  gone  deep  enough ;  they  never 
led  to  the  new  birth;  they  issue  in  no  lasting 
spiritual  life,  so  that,  instead  of  leading  to  the 
transformation  of  the  whole  man,  inner  and  outer, 
they  have  merely  religionized  the  outer  being, 
leaving  the  inner  man  unmelted,  unbroken,  and 
unrenewed.  The  persons  thus  moved  have  gone  a 
considerable  way,  but  not  the  whole.  They  have 
been  roused,  but  not  converted.  They  have  passed 
through  a  certain  religious  process,  but  not  experi- 
enced the  heavenly  change,  without  which  they 
cannot  enter  the  kingdom.  They  have  felt  a  good 
deal,  read  a  good  deal,  prayed  a  good  deal ;  they 
have  not  been  without  their  earnestness  and 
solemnity,  perhaps  their  sighs  and  tears.  They 
have  been  moved  under  sermons ;  roused  by  search- 
ing books ;  done  many  things  and  taken  many  steps 
which  seemed  to  be  religious.  Yet,  after  all,  there 
has  been  no  broken-heartedness,  no  opening  of  the 
eye,  no  breaking  off  from  sin,  no  surrender  of  the 
soul  to  God,  no  crucifixion  of  the  old  man,  no 
resurrection  to  newness  of  life. 

After  a  while,  in  such  cases,  a  deep  and  settled 


CHRIST  AND  THE  WOIT.D.  269 

formalism  has  supervened.  Earnestness  has  faded 
away,  and  left  nothing  but  its  dregs.  The  soul  has 
become  sapless  and  insensible.  The  edge  of  feeling, 
both  upon  heart  and  conscience,  has  become  blunted. 
The  routine  of  religion  is  still  gone  through,  and 
the  profession  still  kept  up  ;  but  all  within  is  dried 
up  and  withered ;  there  is  no  enjoyment  of  spiritual 
things  ;  the  service  of  God  is  a  burden  ;  praise  and 
prayer  are  irksome  ;  sermons  and  sacraments  are 
wearisome  ;  and  the  poor  professor  moves  on  in 
his  heartless  career  ;  outwardly  still  religious,  but 
at  heart  as  unspiritual  and  worldly  as  if  he  had 
never  at  any  time  been  touched  or  awakened  at  all. 
In  such  a  case,  with  a  religion  in  which  he  has 
no  enjoyment,  and  with  a  profession  which  brings 
him  no  liberty  and  no  comfort,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  he  should  have  recourse  to  the  world,  to  fill 
up  the  dreary  void  within.  His  carnal  tastes  never 
having  been  radically  changed,  but  simply  over- 
borne for  a  season,  by  a  rush  of  religious  earnest- 
ness, he  returns  naturally  to  their  gratification  in 
their  old  objects,  and  his  only  restraints  are  the 
dread  of  a  dark  future,  which  he  cannot  shake  off, 
and  the  desire  to  maintain  a  religious  character,  to 
stand  well  with  religious  men,  and  to  maintain  his 
place  in  the  church.  How  many  of  this  class  there 
may  be  in  our  day,  God  only  knows.  We  are 
warned  that,  in  the  last  days,  there  will  be  multi- 
tudes having  the  form  of  godliness,  but  denying 

the  power  thereof. 

These  are  the  ambiguous  disciples  of  our  age, 


270  CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD. 

who  belong  to  Christ  but  in  name.  These  are  the 
stony-ground  or  thorny-ground  hearers  ;  men  who 
have  a  place  at  our  communion  tables,  who  figure 
at  religious  committees,  who  make  speeches  on  reli- 
gious platforms,  yet  are,  after  ail,  "  wells  of  water," 
"  trees  without  root,"  stars  without  either  heat  or 
light. 

The  religion  of  such  is  but  a  half-and-half  reli- 
gion ;  without  depth,  or  decision,  or  vigour,  or  self- 
sacrifice.  It  is  but  a  picture  or  a  statue,  not  a  living 
man. 

The  conversion  of  such  has  been  but  a  half-and- 
half  conversion ;  it  has  not  gone  down  to  the  lowest 
depths  of  the  man's  nature.  I  do  not  say  it  is  a 
pretence  or  a  hypocrisy  ;  but  still,  I  say  it  is  an 
unreality.  It  has  been  a  movement,  a  shaking,  a 
change,  but  it  has  not  been  a  being  "  begotten  of 
God,"  a  being  "born  from  above." 

The  discipleship  of  such  is  but  a  half-and-half 
discipleship.  It  has  some  of  the  aspects  of  disciple- 
ship ;  but  it  is  not  a  forsaking  all,  and  taking  up 
the  cross  and  following  Christ.  We  do  not  count 
genuine  the  discipleship  of  the  man  who  is  to-day 
with  Christ,  to-morrow  with  the  world  ;  to-day  in 
the  sanctuary,  to-morrow  in  the  ball-room.  There 
must  be  suspicion  attaching  to  all  such  inconsistent 
discipleship  ;  it  is  both  cold  and  hot  ;  it  is  both 
worldly  and  unworldly  ;  it  is  both  Christian  and 
un-Christian  ; — what  can  it  be  ? — what  can  it 
mean  ? 

In  speaking  of  such  inconsistencies,  we  must  be 


CHRIST  AND  THE  WORLD.  271 

faithful  and  direct.  We  are  not  to  prophesy  smooth 
things,  and  hint  at  certain  evils,  as  if  they  were 
but  minor  imperfections,  the  quiet  removal  of 
which  would  set  all  to  rights.  No  ;  we  must  strike 
deeper  than  this.  We  must  lay  the  axe  to  the  root 
of  the  tree,  and  say  at  once,  that  such  inconsisten- 
cies betray  the  utter  unsoundness  of  the  man's  whole 
religious  profession.  It  is  not  that  there  are  some 
flaws  in  his  religious  life  ;  it  is  that  his  religion 
itself  is  hollow, — without  foundation,  without  root 
or  soil .  I  will  not  say  it  is  all  a  lie  ;  for  there  is 
sometimes  a  certain  amount  of  good  intention  in  it ; 
but  it  is  all  a  mistake, — a  mighty  and  terrible 
mistake  ;  a  mistake  which,  if  not  rectified  at  once, 
must  issue  in  the  fearful  darkness  and  woeful  dis- 
appointment of  an  undone  eternity  ! 

Such  a  man's  whole  religious  life  is  one  grand 
misconception  ;  and  every  step  he  takes  in  it  is  a 
blunder,  and  a  stumble,  and  a  snare.  Let  such  a 
man  know  that,  in  his  present  half- worldly,  half- 
religious  condition,  he  has  no  real  religion  at  all. 
It  is  a  fiction,  a  delusion.  It  will  stand  no  test  of 
law  or  gospel,  of  conscience  or  of  discipline,  of  time 
or  of  eternity.  It  will  go  to  pieces  with  the  first 
touch.  It  is  all  hollow,  and  must  be  begun  again, 
from  the  very  first  stone  of  the  foundation. 

If,  then,  0  worldly  formalist,  thou  wouldst  make 
sure  thy  hope,  and  obtain  a  discipleship  that  will 
stand  all  tests,  begin  this  day  at  the  beginning. 
Count  all  the  past  but  loss.  Fling  away  thy  vain 
hopes  and  self-righteous  confidences.     Give  up  thy 


272  CHRI  T  AND  THE  WORLD. 

fond  idea  of  securing  both  earth  and  heaven.  Go 
straight  to  Calvary  ;  there  be  thou  crucified  to  the 
world,  and  the  world  to  thee,  by  the  cross  of  Christ. 
Go  straight  to  the  grave  of  Christ ;  there  bring  all 
thy  sins,  thy  worldliness,  thy  half-heartedness, 
and  all  pertaining  to  thy  old  self,  that  being  made 
partaker  of  Christ's  death  and  burial,  thou  niayest 
be  sharer  of  his  resuisrection  too.  Go  at  once  to 
Him  who  died  and  rose  again,  and  drink  into  his 
love.  One  draught,  nay,  one  drop  of  that  love  will 
for  ever  quench  your  love  of  sin,  and  be  the  death 
of  that  worldliness  which  threatens  to  be  your 
eternal  ruin.  The  love  of  Christ  will  not  only 
make  you  an  out  and  out  Christian,  a  thorough- 
going, decided  man  in  all  the  things  of  God,  but  it 
will  pour  in  a  peace  which  you  have  never  known, 
which  you  cannot  know,  save  in  simple  faith  in  the 
heavenly  Peacemaker,  and  in  entire  surrender  of 
soul  to  him  who  gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might 
deliver  us  from  a  present  evil  world,  according  to 
the  will  of  God  our  Father. 


SERMON   XXXIII. 

THE    GOD    OF    GRACE. 

«'  That  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might  shew  the  exceeding  riches  of  his 
grace,  in  his  kindness  toward  us  through  Christ  Jesus.'' — Eph.  ii.  7. 

The  history  of  God's  "grace/'  or  free  love,  goes 
back  into  eternity.  Our  earth's  six  thousand  years 
mark  neither  its  beginning  nor  its  end.  It  dates 
immeasurably  backward  among  the  ages  that  are 
past,  and  it  stretches  immeasurably  forward  into 
"  the  ages  to  come."  It  is  like  Him  in  whose  bosom 
it  dwells,  unbeginning  and  unending  ;  so  that,  as 
he  is  from  everlasting  to  everlasting  "  God,"  so  is 
he  from  everlasting  to  everlasting  the  "  God  of  all 
grace." 

This  grace  must  give  vent  to  itself  and  be  mani- 
fested, for  it  is  the  very  law  of  the  divine  nature, — 
not  merely  to  be,  but  to  manifest  itself.  This  is  the 
law  of  all  being, — to  bring  forth  that  which  it  con- 
tains ;  in  other  words,  to  manifest  itself;  as  in  the 
case  of  the  seed  sown  in  the  grcund  ;  a  law  which, 
in  the  creature,  is  the  finite  copy  or  image  of  that 
which  has  its  seat  and  origin  in  the  infinite  Creator 
himself.  The  sun  cannot  but  shine  ;  the  fountain 
cannot  but  pour  forth  its  waters  ;  the  seed  cannot 


2'<  o 


274  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

but  shoot  up  and  bear  fruit  after  its  kind ;  so,  divine 
goodness  cannot  but  spread  itself  out,  divine  holiness 
cannot  but  come  forth,  divine  wisdom  cannot  but 
give  utterance  to  itself,  and  divine  grace  cannot  but 
unfold  its  riches. 

But,  for  this  unfolding  of  grace,  this  manifestation 
of  what  is  gracious  in  the  divine  character,  there 
must  be  a  purpose  ;  for  grace  is  not  to  manifest  it- 
self at  random,  or  without  due  regard  being  had  to 
time,  and  place,  and  objects,  and  circumstances, 
and  final  issues.  It  is  this  "  purpose  of  grace,"  as 
the  apostle  calls  it,  that  is  needed  for  giving  shape 
and  direction  to  the  divine  self- manifestation.  It 
is  this  purpose  of  grace  that  adjusts  the  awful 
question, — a  question  which  no  finite  being  can 
ever  solve  or  ought  to  entertain, — of  how  far  a 
certain  amount  of  permitted  evil  may  so  be  over- 
ruled for  far  greater  good  as  to  warrant  that  evil 
being  allowed  to  enter.  It  is  this  purpose  of  grace 
that  defines  the  objects  towards  whom  this  grace  is 
to  direct  itself ;  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  to 
find  them  ;  the  time  or  times  at  which,  and  during 
which,  it  is  to  reveal  itself ;  the  channel  through 
which  it  can  righteously  flow  ;  the  amount  of  ob- 
stacles which  it  can  righteously  overcome  ;  the 
nature,  as  well  as  the  extent  and  duration,  of  the 
results  which  it  is  to  accomplish.  All  these,  as  so 
many  preliminaries,  God's  purpose  of  grace  must 
define  ;  leaving  nothing  to  chance,  trusting  nothing 
to  the  caprice  of  creature-will  or  the  uncertainties 
of  creature-mutability  :  embracing  all  conceivable 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  275 

contingencies,  and  regulating  the  exact  amount  of 
evil  that  righteousness  can  tolerate,  and  that  grace 
can  undertake  to  deal  with. 

The  details  of  this  purpose  are  to  be  found  in  the 
history  of  our  race.  That  story,  which  in  so  many 
of  its  parts  seems  to  us  tangled  and  unmeaning,  is 
no  random  assemblage  of  events,  but,  in  all  its  pro- 
cesses, as  well  as  all  its  issues,  is  the  deliberate 
unrolling,  fold  after  fold,  of  that  purpose  of  grace, 
which,  transmuting  the  indefinite  into  the  definite, 
the  contingent  into  the  certain,  and  anticipating  the 
permitted  entrance  of  evil,  proposed  to  deal  with 
this  evil,  not  by  swift  expulsion  or  extinction,  not 
by  immediate  and  unrepealable  judgment  on  the 
transgressors,  but  in  a  way  more  transcendently 
glorious,  and  more  fitted  to  draw  forth  the  hitherto 
unknown  wonders  of  Jehovah's  character,  and  the 
unimaginable  resources  of  his  wisdom  and  grace. 

This  purpose  selected  the  channel  through  which 
this  divine  manifestation  was  to  come,  and  in  select- 
ing it  settled,  at  once  and  for  ever,  the  vain  question 
that  has  been  so  often  raised,  Could  there  not  have 
been  another  channel  equally  efficacious  ?  There 
could  not.  The  divine  selection  of  one  is  the  setting 
aside  of  all  the  rest  as  inadequate  to  accomplish  the 
design.  This  purpose,  then,  gave  definite  shape  to 
the  future,  arranging  its  endless  movements,  as  cer- 
tainly as  the  motions  of  each  starry  orb  in  the  fir- 
mament are  adjusted,  by  the  hand  of  the  Creator, 
It  regulated  the  time  when  grace  was  first  to  come 
forth,  the  plaee  where  it  was  first  to  be  proclaimed, 


276  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

and  the  race  in  reference  to  whom  the  manifestation 
was  to  be  made.  It  was  not  to  shew  itself  at  the 
first  irruption  of  sin.  In  that  case,  righteousness 
was  alone  to  triumph,  and  the  transgressors  con- 
signed to  everlasting  chains.  But  at  the  second 
irruption,  after  it  had  been  proved  that  vengeance 
executed  on  the  criminal  could  not  deter  others, 
and  that  thus  righteousness  alone  was  insufficient 
to  deal  effectually  with  sin,  grace  was  to  be  intro- 
duced, to  deal  with  it  in  a  way  such  as  would  render 
any  future  outburst  of  it  for  ever  impossible.  Im- 
mediately on  man's  fall,  grace  was  to  come  in,  and 
undertake  the  mighty  work  ;  a  work  in  which 
righteousness  had  been  baffled.  On  the  very 
spot  where  sin  had  burst  in  upon  the  new-made 
world,  grace  was  to  plant  its  standard,  and  at  the 
very  commencement  of  the  conflict  proclaim  its 
certain  victory.  It  was  to  meet  sin  face  to  face, 
choosing  for  its  battle-field  the  very  territory  where 
sin  had  displayed  itself.  It  was  to  begin  its  actings 
on  the  soil  where  the  blight  had  fallen  and  the 
ruin  been  wrought.  Confronting  both  the  tempter 
and  the  tempted,  interposing  between  the  spoiler 
and  the  victim,  bidding  the  law  stand  by  and  see 
itself  vindicated  to  the  full,  though  in  a  new  way  ; 
calling  on  righteousness  to  forego  its  prey,  under 
the  promise  of  a  far  nobler  and  more  satisfying 
victim,  it  proclaimed  "glory  to  God  in  the  highest" 
out  of  that  event  which  seemed  most  to  dishonour 
his  name,  "peace  on  earth"  out  of  that  disaster 
which  seemed    to  have  driven  peace  out  of  the 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  277 

world,  u  good- will  to  man"  out  of  that  sin  which 
threatened  to  make  God  man's  enemy  for  ever. 
Hard  by  the  forbidden  tree  of  Eden,  God  opened 
the  well-spring  of  grace,  and,  out  of  the  fountain 
there  opened,  have  flowed  to  us  all  the  manifold 
streams  of  grace  which  have,  since  that,  watered 
our  parched  and  cursed  soil. 

This  grace  is  something  wholly  new,  and,  as  such, 
difficult  for  man  to  apprehend.  The  very  idea  of 
grace  is  strange,  and,  we  may  say,  unnatural  to  man. 
He  understands  the  meaning  of  righteousness,  but 
not  of  grace,  save  in  the  sense  of  mere  indiffer- 
ence to  sin.  His  thoughts  are  not  God's  thoughts ; 
and  hence  the  difficulty  of  making  the  sinner  com- 
prehend what  grace  really  is,  or,  having  compre- 
hended it,  to  ad  upon  it.  To  know  what  grace  is, 
and  to  act  upon  it, — to  know  what  grace  is,  and  to 
go  to  God,  simply  as  one  who  has  heard  that  he  is 
gracious, — this  is  salvation, — this  is  eternal  life  ! 
Yet  thus  to  teach  the  sinner  what  grace  means  is 
strangely  difficult ;  and  to  persuade  him  to  trust 
his  soul  for  eternity  to  that  God  who  has  thus  made 
known  his  grace,  is  a  thing  so  impossible,  that  as 
nothing  but  the  infinite  skill  of  the  divine  Spirit  is 
sufficient  to  overcome  man's  unteachableness  in  this 
thing,  so  nothing  save  the  almightiness  of  the  same 
Spirit  is  able  to  conquer  his  determination  not  to 
allow  himself  to  be  dealt  with  in  any  such  way  by 
God.  To  the  grace  which  consists  in  indifference 
to  sin  he  offers  no  objections  ;  the  grace  that  would 
allow  him  to  work  his  own  way  back  to  God,  and 


278  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

accept  his  doings  at  what  he  conceives  them  to  be 
worth,  he  comprehends :  to  the  grace  that  would 
make  him  partner  in  the  work  of  salvation  he  would 
submit ;  but  to  the  grace  which  sets  out  with  the 
total  condemnation  both  of  himself  and  his  sin, 
which  allows  him  no  standing  before  God  save  that 
of  the  sentenced  criminal,  and  no  plea  save  that 
of  worthlessness,  which  treats  himself  as  one 
thoroughly  lost,  and  his  case  as  absolutely  despe- 
rate, and  which,  while  doing  all  this,  presents  him 
with  a  complete,  an  immediate,  an  eternal  salvation, 
— without  preparation  or  prerequisite,  as  the  pur- 
chase of  the  great  redemption  on  the  cross,  and  the 
gift  of  God's  free  and  boundless  love, — to  this  grace 
he  has  insuperable  objections,  and  would  perish 
rather  than  take  life  upon  such  terms,  nay,  would 
turn  round  upon  God  and  accuse  him  of  unfairness 
in  such  treatment  of  himself,  and  of  disregard  to 
the  interests  of  morality  and  virtue,  in  disallowing 
what  he  calls  the  honourable  competition  for  eter- 
nal life. 

From  the  hour  that  God  proclaimed  this  grace 
upon  the  earth,  he  gave  man  to  understand  that 
there  was  grace  enough  to  meet  his  case  as  a  sinner. 
The  first  promise  embodies  this  as  its  essence ;  and 
upon  the  strength  of  this  simple  assurance,  sinners 
in  those  early  days  drew  nigh  to  God,  and  saints 
walked  with  him  in  holy  companionship.  They 
knew  but  little  then ;  for  God's  purpose  of  grace 
dawned  slowly  on  the  world  ;  but  what  they 
knew  gave  rest  to  their  souls,  for  they  could  say 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  279 

this  much  at  least,  "  There  is  enough  of  grace  in 
God  to  meet  my  case."  Thus  they  tasted  that 
the  Lord  was  gracious,  and  went  upon  their  way 
rejoicing,  to  keep  the  commandments  of  their  God. 

But  as  the  world  went  on,  sin  went  on ;  and  it 
might  be  doubted  whether  this  grace  of  God  that 
was  sufficient  at  first  was  sufficient  still,  or  whether 
man's  sin  might  not  exhaust  it,  or  whether  it  could 
continue  to  widen  its  circle,  and  embrace  yet  larger 
and  larger  measures  of  unworthiness.  Grant  that 
the  rays  of  the  sun  can  pierce  a  certain  amount  of 
darkness,  is  there  light  enough  to  pierce  all  dark- 
ness whatsoever,  though  it  were  to  deepen  and 
thicken  beyond  measure  ?  Grant  that  the  light 
has  proved  itself  sufficient  to  absorb  the  darkness 
of  the  world's  first  sad  night,  is  it  adequate  to 
swallow  up  the  darkness  of  ten  thousand  mid- 
nights gloomier  and  more  sorrowful  than  these  ? 
Will  grace  last  ?  Will  it  expand  itself  to  take  in 
greater  guilt  ?  Will  not  God  be  wearied  with  re- 
ceiving so  many  sinners,  and  forgiving  so  many 
sins  ?  All  these  questions  required  to  be  answered, 
and  God  proceeded  to  answer  them  age  after  age, 
by  shewing  that  "  where  sin  abounded,  grace  did 
much  more  abound." 

He  not  merely  allowed  sin  to  enter,  but  to  spread ; 
not  only  to  spread,  but  to  increase  in  heinous- 
ness  ;  not  only  to  increase  in  heinousness,  but  to 
vary  itself,  and  take  every  conceivable  shape  that 
man's  spirit  could  undergo, — all  in  order  to  demon- 
strate that  his  resources  of  grace  were  adequate  to 


280  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

meet  it  all.  Sin  might  widen  its  circle  age  after 
age,  but  grace  widened  its  circle  and  still  went  far 
bevond  man's  transgression.  Age  after  age  sin 
ascended  a  higher  pinnacle  of  rebellious  ungodli- 
ness ;  but  grace  ascended  along  with  it,  and  took 
its  station  far  above  it,  like  a  bright  canopy  of 
heavenly  azure.  Age  after  age  descended  to  lower 
and  lower  depths  of  hateful  pollution ;  grace  went 
down  along  with  it,  and  when  the  soul  found  itself 
at  the  very  bottom  of  the  horrible  pit,  and  expected 
to  meet  nothing  there  but  hell  itself,  it  found  the 
hand  of  grace  still  beneath  it,  as  mighty  to  save,  as 
willing  to  bless  as  ever.  Just  as  sin  abounded,  so 
grace  did  much  more  abound. 

Such  has  been  the  history  of  our  world,  and  such 
the  way  in  which  God's  purpose  of  grace  has  un- 
folded itself,  and  widened  its  circle  just  as  sin  con- 
tinued to  widen, — so  that  every  part  of  it  has  been 
a  story  of  abounding  sin,  and  far  more  abounding 
grace.  We  know  that  Adam's  case  was  such,  and 
such  has  been  the  case  of  each  saved  one  to  this 
hour.  What  was  Abraham's  history  but  one  of 
abounding  sin  and  superabounding  grace  ?  What 
was  Rahab's,  but  a  history  of  abounding  sin  and 
superabounding  grace  ?  What  was  David's,  but  a 
history  of  abounding  sin  and  superabounding  grace  ? 
What  was  Manasseh's,  but  a  history  of  abounding 
sin  and  superabounding  grace  ?  What  was  the  his- 
tory of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  but  one  of  abounding  sin 
and  superabounding  grace,  as  he  himself  declares, 
u  The  grace  of  our  Lord  was  exceeding  abundant 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  281 

towards  me  with  faith  and  love,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  ?"  What  has  all  Israel's  history  been,  but 
the  history  of  abounding  sin  and  superabounding 
grace  ?  Nay,  what  is  all  this  world's  long  history, 
protracted  to  its  utmost  length  by  God's  marvel- 
lous long-suffering,  not  willing  that  any  should 
perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance  ; — 
what  is  it  but  a  history  of  abounding  sin  and  super- 
abounding  grace  ?  0  the  infinite  dimensions  of 
this  immeasurable  grace  !  It  has  a  breadth  and 
length,  a  depth  and  height,  that  pass  all  knowledge. 
And  it  is  this  wondrous  grace,  in  all  its  exceeding 
riches,  that  God  is  presenting  to  each  sinner  here, 
that  they  may  take  it  and  live  for  ever.  There 
was  enough  for  Eahab,  and  Manasseh,  and  Saul; 
be  assured  that  there  is  enough  for  you. 


SERMON  XXXIV. 

THE   GOD   OF  GKACE. 

"  That  in  the  ages  to  come  he  might  shew  the  exceeding  riches  of  his 
grace,  in  his  kindness  toward  us  through  Christ  Jesus." — Eph.  ii.  7. 

But  the  past  has  not  exhausted   this  grace  ;  the 

future  is  as  much  connected  with  it  as  is  the  past. 

It  is  in  "the  ages  to  come  "  that  he  is  "  to  shew 

the  exceeding  riches  of  his  grace."      The  Lord's 

first  coming  displayed  much   of  these  exceeding 

riches,  his  second  coming  is  to  bring  them  to  light 

in  yet  larger  fulness.     From  the  foot  of  the  cross 

the  fountain  of  free  love  poured  itself  plenteously 

forth  ;  but  from  the  foot  of  the  throne  this  same 

fountain  is  again  to  break  out  and  send  abroad  its 

unexhausted  abundance.     Of  the   many  ways  in 

which  grace  shall  then  get  vent  to  itself,  I  do  not 

mean  here  to  speak  ;  yet  this  much  may  be  said, 

that  in  a  thousand  forms  and  ways  shall  grace  yet 

unfold  itself, — in  bringing  back  the   captivity  of 

Zion,  in  converting  the  world,  in  binding  the  strong 

man,  in  removing  the  curse,  in  making  all  things 

new,  so  that  Go:.'s  last  demonstration  of  grace  shall 

be   the   strongest   and  the   fullest, — proving   that 

where    sin    has   abounded  grace  has  much   more 

abounded. 

282 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  283 

Of  these,  however,  I  do  not  speak  further,  as  the 
Apostle's  words  in  the  passage  before  us  speak 
more  especially  of  the  Church,  and  of  what  grace 
is  yet  to  do  for  her  in  the  ages  to  come.  To  this 
same  thing  and  time  refer  the  words  of  the  apostle 
Peter,  when  he  speaks  of  "  the  grace  that  is  to  be 
brought  unto  us  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ " 
(1  Pet.  i.  13).  Both  passages  point  us  forward  to 
the  day  of  Christ's  appearing,  as  the  day  in  which 
new  treasures  of  grace  shall  be  unlocked  to  us,  and 
God's  free  love  have  a  new  manifestation  which 
shall  shew  that  the  past  has  not  exhausted  it ; 
nay,  that  the  past  has  merely  been  the  earnest  of 
the  wonders  yet  to  come.  It  is  grace  that  strives 
with  the  sinner,  grace  that  renews  him,  grace  that 
leads  him  to  the  cross,  grace  that  forgives  him, 
grace  that  heals  all  his  diseases,  grace  that  bears 
with  him  after  forgiveness,  grace  that  guides  him 
along,  grace  that  fights  for  him,  grace  that  com- 
forts him,  grace  that  trains  him  for  the  kingdom 
and  makes  all  things  work  together  for  his  good, 
grace  that  keeps  his  soul  in  peace  amid  the  tumults 
of  a  stormy  world,  grace  that  maintains  his  un- 
broken fellowship  with  the  Lord,  grace  that  lays 
him  down  quietly  to  sleep  in  Jesus,  with  the  blessed 
hope  of  soon  rising  again  and  putting  on  immor- 
tality ; — it  is  grace  that  does  all  these  marvels  for 
him  and  in  him.  In  experiencing  these  things,  he 
feels  oftentimes  as  if  grace  had  gone  to  its  utmost 
stretch,  as  if  it  were  not  possible  nor  conceivable 
that  grace  could  do  more  for  him  than  it  has  done. 


284  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

Its  past  dealings  with  him  have  been  so  marvellous, 
that  it  seems  ingratitude  as  well  as  presumption  to 
anticipate  more.  Yet  that  which  he  is  afraid  even 
to  imagine,  is  that  which  God  has  in  store  for  him. 
Grace,  nay,  riches  of  grace,  nay,  exceeding  riches 
of  grace,  are  yet  to  be  unfolded  to  him  in  the  ages 
to  come.  Eye  hath  not  seen  them,  ear  hath  not 
heard  them,  the  heart  has  not  conceived  them  ; 
yet  they  are  not  the  less  surely  provided  for  him. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  difference  in  the  ages  to 
come.  There  are  no  more  sins  to  be  forgiven,  and 
no  more  perversity  and  unbelief  to  be  borne  with  ; 
but  still  the  man  is  the  same  man  that  was  once  in 
the  miry  clay,  that  was  once  a  sinner  and  an  alien, 
and  accordingly  he  can  only  be  dealt  with,  even 
hereafter,  by  grace.  It  was  only  grace  that  could 
meet  his  case  here  in  his  sins  ;  and  it  is  only  grace 
that  can  deal  with  him  hereafter,  even  when  made 
perfect.  All  that  shall  be  done  for  him  in  the 
ages  to  come,  shall  be  the  result  of  grace.  Here  it 
is  grace  seen  in  justifying  ;  hereafter  it  is  grace 
seen  in  glorifying  the  justified.  The  amount  of 
grace  given  out  here  is  just  the  amount  needed  for 
the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  and  the  new-moulding 
of  his  nature,  and  the  helping  of  his  infirmities  ; 
but  the  amount  of  grace  to  flow  forth  in  the  ages 
to  come,  is  to  be  measured  by  the  excellency  of 
the  inheritance  which  is  then  to  be  bestowed. 
That  which  man  calls  "  exceeding  riches  of  grace  ' 
is  just  that  extent  of  grace  which  he  needs  here, 
when  fighting  his  way  to  the   kingdom,   for  his 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  285 

finite  soul  can  hardly  conceive  of  anything  larger ; 
but  that  which  God  calls  the  "  exceeding  riches  of 
grace "  is  that  which  is  measured  by  "  the  exceed- 
ing and.  eternal  weight  of  glory." 

We  often  feel  as  if  grace  had  done  its  utmost 
when  it  has  carried  us  safely  through  the  desert, 
and  set  us  down  at  the  gate  of  the  kingdom.  We 
feel  as  if,  when  grace  has  landed  us  there,  it  has 
done  all  for  us  that  we  are  to  expect.  But  God's 
thoughts  are  not  our  thoughts.  He  does  exceed- 
ing abundantly  above  all  we  ask  or  think.  It  is 
just  when  we  reach  the  threshold  of  the  prepared 
city,  that  grace  meets  us  in  new  and  more  abun- 
dant measures,  presenting  us  with  the  recompence 
of  the  reward.  The  love  that  shall  meet  us  then 
to  bid  us  welcome  to  the  many  mansions,  shall  be 
love  beyond  what  we  were  here  able  to  compre- 
hend ;  for  then  shall  we  fully  realise,  as  if  for  the 
first  time,  the  meaning  of  these  words,  "  The  love 
of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord;"  and 
then  shall  we  have  that  prayer  of  Christ  fulfilled  in 
us,  "  That  the  love  wherewith  thou  hast  loved  me 
may  be  in  them,  and  I  in  them."  It  is  grace  that 
bestows  the  inheritance  ;  and  the  greatness  of  that 
inheritance  will  be  the  measure  of  the  grace.  It 
is  grace  that  crowns  and  enthrones  us  ;  and  the 
crown  and  throne,  which  shall  then  be  ours,  will  be 
the  measure  of  the  grace.  It  is  grace  that  pro- 
vides for  us  the  New  Jerusalem,  with  its  bright 
beauty  and  divine  magnificence  ;  and  that  celestial 
city  will  be  the  measure  of  the  grace.     It  is  grace 


286  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

that  spreads  for  us  the  Lamb's  marriage-supper, 
and  clothes  us  with  the  bridal-dress  ;  and  that 
marriage-supper,  that  bridal-dress,  will  be  the 
measure  of  the  grace.  It  was  grace  that  on  earth 
said  to  us,  u  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest ;"  and  it  will  be  grace,  in  all  its  exceeding 
riches,  that  will  hereafter  say  to  us,  "  Come,  }^e 
blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 

No  doubt,  in  one  sense,  we  might  say  that 
God's  Son,  his  unspeakable  gift,  is  the  measure, 
even  as  he  is  the  pledge  of  the  grace  ;  and,  speak- 
ing generally,  we  might  say,  the  grace  must  be 
boundless,  seeing  the  gift  is  infinite,  so  that  we 
do  not  need  to  wait  for  the  ages  to  come  to  dis- 
close the  riches  of  the  grace.  But  let  us  remem- 
ber that  it  is  one  thing  to  know  that  a  friend's 
bountifulness  is  large,  and  another  thing  to  know 
in  what  gifts  that  large  bountifulness  will  display 
itself.  God's  gift  of  his  own  Son  assures  us  that 
there  is  nothing  too  costly  for  him  to  bestow  on  us ; 
so  that,  applying  this  measurement  generally,  we 
may  say,  "  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  how 
shall  he  not,  with  him,  freely  give  us  all  things  ?" 
But  not  until  these  "  all  things  "  are  made  ours  in 
the  ages  to  come,  can  we  realise  all  the  grace  that 
the  "  unspeakable  gift '  includes  and  implies. 
Faith  uses  this  as  the  great  standard  of  measure- 
ment when  calculating  the  extent  of  its  anticipated 
possessions  ;  hope  assures  itself  by  means  of  it  that 
it  shall  not  be  put  to  shame.     But  all  this  is  only 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  287 

seeing  things  "  in  a  glass  darkly."  Possessing 
Christ,  we  feel  assured  that  we  can  possess  nothing 
of  greater  value  ;  but  still  the  things  which  we 
receive  in  him  and  through  him,  will  most  marvel- 
lously contribute  to  make  us  understand  the  grace 
which  is  given  us  in  him.  In  giving  us  Christ,  the 
Father  traces  round  us,  as  it  were,  an  illimitable 
circle  ;  but  then  our  exact  appreciation  of  its  wide 
dimensions  depends  much  upon  its  contents,  upon 
the  nature  of  the  things  which  it  comprehends. 
To  say  that  our  treasure-house  is  infinite,  is  one 
thing,  and  to  bring  forth  its  treasures  and  spread 
them  out  before  us,  is  another.  It  is  one  thin£  to 
tell  us  that  there  is  over  our  heads  a  vast  and  all- 
including  firmament,  bright  with  the  glory  and  the 
love  of  God  ;  and  it  is  another  to  withdraw  the 
clouds  that  veil  it,  and  to  present  us  with  a  whole 
sky  of  stars.  And  j  ust  as,  in  receiving  our  daily  for- 
givenesses at  his  hand,  God  made  us  to  understand 
the  riches  of  his  grace,  while  here,  in  a  way  such 
as  we  never  could  by  any  mere  statement  of  their 
greatness  ;  so,  in  conferring  on  us  the  incorrup- 
tible inheritance  hereafter,  he  will  give  us  concep- 
tions of  his  unutterable  grace  such  as,  till  then,  we 
could  not  realise.  The  truth  is,  though  it  may 
seem  almost  a  contradiction,  that  while  we  measure 
the  greatness  of  the  coming  glories  by  the  unspeak- 
able gift,  we  are  also  to  measure  the  greatness  of 
the  unspeakable  gift  by  the  glories  which  shall  then 
be  revealed.  We  stand  at  the  cross  just  now,  and, 
realising  the  love  of  which  that  cross  gives  us  the 


288  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

happy  pledge,  we  look  forward  into  the  ages  to 
come  and  say,  What  will  not  God  give  ?  so  here- 
after, when  these  ages  shall  have  begun,  we  shall 
turn  our  eye  backward  to  the  cross,  and,  encircled 
with  the  glory  of  the  kingdom  that  shall  then  be 
ours,  we  shall  exclaim,  "  Oh,  what  hath  God  given 
us  in  giving  us  his  Son  !" 

This  glance  into  "the  ages  to  come,"  with  all 
their  "exceeding  riches  of  grace,"  is  plentiful  in 
lessons,  as  practical  as  they  are  precious.  It  opens 
out  so  largely,  in  all  its  breadth  and  length,  in  all 
its  depth  and  height,  the  infinitely  gracious  charac- 
ter of  "  the  God  of  all  grace,"  that  we  cannot  give 
it  admission  for  a  moment  without  feeling  what  a 
new  intensity  of  light  it  casts  upon  "the  gospel  of 
the  grace  of  God." 

Pointing  to  these  "  ages  to  come,"  we  can  reason 
with  the  man  of  this  age,  the  man  who  is  walking 
"  according  to  the  course  of  this  age,"  and  who,  if 
Christ  were  coming  now  to  introduce  the  age  to 
come,  would  be  found  all  unready ;  we  can  reason 
with  him  and  say,  Behold  these  riches  of  grace  ! 
are  they  not  enough  to  startle  even  your  heedless- 
ness into  solemnity,  and  to  convince  you  that  there 
is  a  better  portion,  than  this  poor  world,  for  that 
empty  soul  of  yours  ?  Is  that  boundless  store  of 
love,  which  the  eternal  ages  are  to  unfold,  not  more 
satisfying,  more  gladdening  to  the  spirit  than  this 
present  evil  world  ?  And  does  it  not  assure  you, 
though  you  be  the  guiltiest  and  most  alienated  that 
earth  contains,  that  there  is  grace  enough  in  God 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  289-. 

to  receive  you,  save  you,  pardon  you,  bless  you, 
and  make  you,  even  you,  an  heir  of  God  and  joint- 
heir  with  Jesus  Christ. 

Again,  pointing  to  these  ages  to  come,  we  can 
reason  with  the  troubled  spirit,  weary  of  its  burdens, 
yet  doubting  whether  its  wounds  can  be  healed  or 
its  sins  forgiven  : — These  "ages  to  come,"  my 
friend,  with  all  their  exceeding  riches  of  grace,  do 
they  not  speak  peace  to  your  sorrowful  spirit  ?  Do 
they  not  tell  you  of  grace  so  free  and  ample  that  it 
is  not  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  your 
sins  can  exceed  it  ?  You  do  not  need  to  vex  your- 
self with  the  thought,  "  But  what  are  these  riches 
of  grace,  so  long  as  I  am  not  assured  of  my  portion 
in  that  kingdom  ?"  This  is  not  the  point  with  which 
you  have  more  immediately  to  do.  The  question 
on  which  the  commencement  of  your  peace  depends 
is  not,  "What  is  your  ascertained  participation  in 
that  promised  heritage  ?  "  but,  What  is  the  charac- 
ter of  the  God  with  whom  you  have  to  do,  and 
what  is  the  light  which  these  future  ages  cast  upon 
his  character  as  the  God  of  all  grace  ?  His  past 
dealings  with  sinners  reveal  his  graciousness,  and 
is  not  that  enough  to  make  you  feel  that  there  is 
a  welcome  for  you  ?  The  cross  of  his  Son  ;  where 
the  great  pacification  was  accomplished,  in  virtue 
of  which  his  grace  has  got  righteous  vent  to  itself ; 
that  cross  makes  known  his  graciousness,  and  is 
it  not  sufficient  to  pacify  your  conscience  and  win 
your  reluctant  confidence  ?  But,  as  if  all  that  were 
still  inadequate,  he  gives  you  a  prophetic  glance 


290  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

into  the  fountainhead  of  his  immeasurable  grace, 
and  disclosing  to  you  the  gracious  bosom  out  of 
which  all  grace  has  come,  he  shews  you  such  a 
vastness  of  love,  and  such  an  infinite  magnitude  of 
resources  ready  to  be  poured  forth  at  the  bidding 
of  that  love,  that  it  seems  as  if  he  would  not  allow 
the  very  shadow  of  an  excuse  to  remaia  for  one 
distrustful  imagination,  one  suspicious  thought. 
This  God  of  all  grace,  the  God  of  these  coming 
ages,  is  he  not  just  such  a  God  as  even  you  may 
go  to,  with  the  whole  outcry  of  your  complaints, 
the  whole  burden  of  your  wants  and  sins  ?  Whether 
it  be  your  sense  of  sin  or  your  want  of  a  sense  of 
sin  tl  it  is  saddening  you  ;  whether  it  be  a  new  and 
sudden  rising  of  doubts  within  you,  or  a  long-pro- 
tracted course  of  unbelief,  and  insensibility,  and 
darkness  ;  whatever  it  be,  know  this,  that  there  is 
grace  enough  in  this  God  of  all  grace  even  for  such 
a  case  as  yours.  And  if  you  would  but  be  persuaded 
to  give  yourselves  at  once  to  the  blessed  impression 
which  the  simple  announcement  of  these  tidings  of 
grace  is  fitted  to  make,  you  would  know,  ere  you 
were  aware,  the  divine  peace  that  calms  every  tu- 
mult within  ;  and,  tasting  that  the  Lord  is  gracious, 
you  would  go  upon  your  way  rejoicing,  the  Lord 
directing  your  heart  into  the  love  of  God  and  into 
the  patient  waiting  for  Christ. 

Lastly,  pointing  to  these  ages  to  come,  we  can 
reason  with  the  struggling  saint  and  say,  Look  at 
these  exceeding  riches  of  grace  which  are  to  be  un- 
folded at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  then 


THE  GOD  OF  GRACE.  291 

ask  yourself,  Is  there  any  room  for  that  faintness 
and  oppressive  despondency  which  sometimes  weighs 
you  down  ?  Is  there  room  for  care,  and  anxiety, 
and  dread,  and  sadness  ?  Is  there  room  for  any- 
thing save  joy  in  the  Lord,  and  exultation  in  the 
hope  of  his  appearing  ?  It  was  thus  that  our  Lord 
reasoned  with  his  disciples,  "  Fear  not,  little  flock ; 
for  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the 
kingdom  ;"  the  meaning  of  which  passage  is  not,  as 
some  take  it,  "  Be  not  afraid,  for  you  shall  soon 
have  a  kingdom  that  will  make  up  for  all  poverty 
and  privation  here  ;"  but,  "  Fear  not,  neither 
despond  respecting  your  present  lot  ;  he  who  is 
about  to  give  you  a  kingdom  will  assuredly  supply 
all  your  need  according  to  his  riches  in  glory ;  the 
kingdom  which  you  have  in  prospect  is  a  pledge 
that  he  will  deny  you  nothing  here."  So  we  say, 
He  that  has  made  you  heirs  of  his  kingdom,  will 
he  withhold  anything  from  you  ?  Nay,  what  will  he 
not  fully  give,  whether  pertaining  to  the  soul  or  the 
body  ?  Is  his  grace  large  enough  to  give  you  a  king- 
dom, and  yet  not  large  enough  to  provide  for  you 
on  the  way  to  it  ?  Are  not  these  exceeding  riches 
of  grace,  which  are  to  be  unrolled  in  the  ages  to 
come,  the  pledge  of  all  present  grace  which  your 
case  requires  ?  That  which  God  purposes  to  do 
hereafter  tells  you  how  much  he  is  willing  to  do 
just  now.  What  sin  is  he  not  willing  to  forgive  ? 
What  want  is  he  not  willing  to  supply  ?  What 
infirmity  is  he  not  willing  to  help  ?  What  enemy 
is  he  not  willing  to  bruise  under  your  feet  ?    What 


292  THE  GOD  OF  GRACE. 

evil  in  you  is  he  not  willing  to  uproot  ?  What 
fruits  of  his  Spirit  will  he  not  ripen  in  you  ?  What 
fear  is  he  not  willing  to  remove  ?  What  burden  is 
he  not  willing  to  bear  ?  What  desire  of  your  heart 
is  he  not  willing  to  grant  ?  What  trial  is  he  not 
willing  to  alleviate  ?  What  wound  is  he  not  willing 
to  heal  ?  What  sorrow  is  he  not  willing  to  turn 
into  joy  ?  Ah,  these  exceeding  riches  of  grace  in 
the  ages  to  come, — these  are  the  Church's  pledge 
for  all  needed  blessings  now  !  If  we  may  expect 
these  hereafter,  what  may  we  not  count  upon  now  ? 
He  that  has  prepared  for  us  a  crown  of  righteous- 
ness, will  he  not  uphold  our  goings  here  ?  He  that 
has  built  for  us  the  New  Jerusalem  with  all  its 
glory,  will  he  not  give  us  a  place  on  earth  whereon 
to  lay  our  head  ?  He  that  has  provided  the  white 
raiment  of  the  bridal  feast,  will  he  not  give  us 
clothing  for  our  bodies  in  the  days  of  our  pilgrim- 
age ?  He  that  is  to  spread  for  us  the  table  with  the 
hidden  manna  and  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of  life,  will 
he  not  give  us  bread  to  eat,  while  passing  onwards 
to  the  kingdom  ?  He  that  is  ere  long  to  give  us 
the  bright  and  morning  star,  will  he  not  shed  light 
upon  the  darkness  of  our  dreary  path,  till  the  day 
break  and  the  shadows  flee  away  ?    ' 


SERMON  XXXV. 

THE   SINOEKITT   OP   THE  DIVINE   COMPASSION. 

"  It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it 
grieved  him  at  his  heart." — Gen.  vi.  6. 

The  manner  in  which  God  here  acknowledges  man 
as  his  handiwork  is  specially  to  be  noted.  The 
words  are,  "It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had 
made  man  upon  earth."  It  is  not  said  generally, 
"that  man  had  been  made  ;"  but  definitely,  that 
"he  had  made  man."  He  had  spoken  of  man  in 
his  primeval  goodness,  as  coming  from  his  hand ;  so 
now  he  does  not  fail  to  remind  us  that  it  is  this 
same  man,  this  very  race,  that  has  now  become  so 
worthless  and  hateful. 

He  might  have  drawn  a  veil  over  this  point,  so 
as  to  prevent  our  being  so  vividly  reminded  that 
man  was  truly  his  own  workmanship.  But  he  does 
not.  Nay,  he  brings  the  sad  fact  before  us, — a 
fact  that  seems  to  reflect  upon  his  own  skill  and 
power.  He  does  not  disavow  creation.  He  does 
not  disown  man.  He  does  not  speak  or  act  as  one 
ashamed  to  be  known  as  the  Maker  of  one  so 
miserably  apostate,  so  incurably  depraved.  Even 
when  making  known  man's  extremity  of  guilt,  he 
openlv  owns  him  as  his  creature.     He  does  not 


lD3 


294  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

keep  silence  on  the  matter,  as  one  desirous  that  it 
should  be  forgotten  or  unnoticed.  He  brings  it 
directly  forward,  as  if  to  call  attention  to  the  fact. 

When  man  fails  in  some  great  or  favourite  pro- 
ject,— as  when  an  architect  plans  and  builds  a 
palace,  which,  by  reason  of  some  essential  defect, 
almost  immediately  tumbles  down, — he  is  anxious 
that  its  failure  should  not  be  proclaimed,  and  that 
the  work  thus  ruined  should  never  be  known  as  his. 
He  cannot  bear  the  reproach  which  is  sure  to  fall 
upon  him ;  he  shrinks  from  the  responsibility  which 
has  been  incurred  ;  he  cannot  afford  to  lose  the 
reputation  he  may  have  gained. 

But  with  God  there  are  no  such  feelings  ;  no  such 
desire  of  concealment;  no  desire  to  shake  off  the 
responsibility  devolving  on  lim  as  Creator.  He 
can  afford  to  bear  man's  petty  censure  ;  he  can 
afford  to  have  it  said,  "Behold  the  work  of  thy 
hands."  He  is  not  concerned  to  keep  back  any- 
thing from  his  creatures,  as  if  their  blame  or  praise 
could  affect  him.  Hence  it  is  that  we  discern 
something  altogether  unlike  man,  something  truly 
God-like,  in  that  simple  form  of  expression  here, 
"It  repented  the  Lord  that  lie  had  made  man 
upon  the  earth." 

Marvellous  words  indeed  ;  words  such  as  no  man 
could  have  ventured  to  use  respecting  God ;  words 
too  strong  and  bold  for  any  one  to  have  employed 
but  God  himself !  Let  us  look  calmly  into  them, 
for  they  are  too  full  of  solemn  meaning  to  be  lightly 
passed  over,  or  generalised  into  a  vague  expression 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  295 

of  God's  hatred  of  sin,  or  explained  away  into  a 
mere  figure  used  by  God  after  the  manner  of  men. 
In  endeavouring  to  discover  what  the  words  do 
mean,  let  us  first  inquire  what  they  do  not  mean. 

1.  They  do  not  mean  that  God 's  purpose  had  been 
frustrated.  That  purpose  shall  stand,  for  it  is  the 
perfect  combination  of  infinite  wisdom  and  power. 
It  is  not  within  the  limits  of  possibility  that  the 
creature  should  thwart  the  purpose  of  the  Creator. 
It  cannot  fail.  It  must  be  carried  out,  though  at 
times  its  movements  may  seem  checked,  or  even 
become  apparently  retrogressive.  To  suppose  aught 
else,  would  be  to  say  that  the  will  of  the  creature 
was  stronger  than  the  will  of  the  Creator;  and  that 
the  folly  of  the  creature  had  baffled  the  wisdom  of 
the  Creator. 

2.  They  do  not  mean  that  an  unexpected  crisis  had 
arisen.  With  man  it  may  be  so.  A  crisis  may  come 
to  him  unexpectedly,  so  as  entirely  to  disconcert 
himself  and  defeat  his  schemes.  With  God  there 
can  be  nothing  unexpected,  nothing  sudden,  nothing 
unforeseen  or  unprovided  for.  The  whole  future, 
with  its  endless  turns  and  intricacies,  lies  before 
him,  as  open  and  as  clear  as  the  past.  No  evil, 
however  great,  shoots  up  unpermitted  or  unlooked 
for.  Neither  Satan's  wiles  nor  man's  apostasy  ; 
neither  the  rejection  of  Noah's  warnings,  nor  the 
spread  of  sin,  nor  the  ruin  of  the  race,  were  unex- 
pected evils. 

3.  They  do  not  mean  that  God  is  subject  to  like 
■passions  and  changes  as  we  are.     He  does  not  vary 


296  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

as  we  vary,  nor  repent  as  we  repent.  Instability 
is  the  property  of  the  creature,  not  of  the  Creator. 
Frailty  is  for  man,  not  for  God.  There  is  no  vacil- 
lation, no  fluctuation  in  him.  That  he  does  feel, 
we  know.  If  he  did  not,  he  would  not  be  God. 
But  his  feeling  is  not  weakness.  That  he  alters  his 
procedure  we  know,  but  not  as  we  alter  ours. 
There  is  no  caprice  in  his  emotion  or  his  acting. 
All  is  the  serenity  of  highest  wisdom,  which  cannot 
be  taken  by  surprise,  nor  blinded  by  anger,  nor 
rendered  unavailing  by  fickleness,  or  facility,  or 
arbitrary  will. 

4.  They  do  not  mean  that  He  has  ceased  to  care  for 
his  creatures.  Wrath,  indeed,  has  gone  out  against 
the  transgressor;  the  righteous  wrath  of  the  right- 
eous, though  loving,  God;  and  "the  soul  that  sin- 
neth  it  shall  die."  Yet,  neither  man  himself,  nor 
his  habitation,  the  earth,  has  been  overlooked  by 
God,  far  less  hated  and  spurned.  The  words  inti- 
mate neither  the  coldness  nor  the  dislike  of  the 
Creator  toward  the  creature.  It  is  something: 
very  widely  different  which  they  convey ;  a  sadder, 
tenderer  feeling ;  a  feeling  in  which,  not  indifference, 
but  profound  compassion,  is  the  prevailing  element. 
They  do  not  intimate  the  quenching  of  his  love,  nor 
even  imply  coldness  or  distance.  They  are  not  the 
utterance  of  resentment,  as  if  pity  had  now  been 
extinguished,  and  the  fondness  of  affection  been 
supplanted  by  the  fierceness  of  revenge. 

But  still,  it  may  be  asked,  How  are  the  words  to 
be  reconciled   with  the  character  of  God  as   the 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  297 

all-knowing  Jehovah,  seeing  the  end  from  the 
beginning,  and  ordering  everything  from  eternity, 
according  to  the  counsel  of  his  will  ?  To  clear  up 
this,  let  me  remark — 

1.  That  God  is  represented  to  us  here,  as  looking 
at  events  or  facts,  simply  as  they  are,  without  refer- 
ence to  the  past  or  future  at  all.  He  isolates  or 
separates  them  from  all  connection  with  his  own 
purpose ;  and  looking  at  them  simply  as  they  stand 
alone,  he  declares  what  he  thinks  and  feels.  In  so 
far  as  they  stood  connected  with  his  own  vast  pur- 
pose, which  age  after  age  was  evolving,  he  did  not 
repent,  or  change  his  mind,  or  wish  them  undone ; 
but,  in  so  far  as  they  were  exhibitions  of  human 
wickedness  or  wretchedness,  he  did  grieve,  and  he 
did  repent.  For  let  us  remember  that  there  must 
ever  be  two  kinds  of  feelings  in  such  matters, — one 
called  up  by  looking  at  each  event  by  itself,  and 
another  by  looking  at  it  as  part  of  a  mighty  plan, 
which,  in  its  origination  and  developments,  is  from 
eternity  to  eternity. 

2.  That  God's  purposes  do  not  alter  God's  esti- 
mate of  events,  or  his  feelings  respecting  indivi- 
duals and  their  conduct.  It  was  by  the  u  deter- 
minate counsel  and  foreknowledge  of  God"  that 
Christ  was  betrayed  and  slain,  yet  that  did  not 
affect  God's  estimate  of  the  crime  committed  by 
them  that  slew  him.  God's  allowing  man  to  fall 
did  not  make  God  the  approver  of  his  sin ;  it  did 
not  make  him  the  less  to  hate  and  to  grieve  over 
the  sin  whose  permission  had  been  foreseen  and 


298  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

decreed.  Each  action  or  event  is  a  link  in  God's 
mighty  purpose,  yet  it  must  be  weighed  separately 
in  the  balances,  and  judged  according  to  the  perfect 
standard  of  right  and  wrong. 

3.  That  God  is  looking  at  the  scene  just  as  a 
man  would  look  at  it,  and  expressing  himself  just 
as  a  man  would  have  clone,  in  such  circumstances. 
He  takes  the  place  of  a  finite  being;  hears  with 
finite  ears,  looks  with  finite  eyes,  and  utters  the 
sentiments  of  a  finite  heart.  He  sees  all  the  present 
misery  and  ruin  which  the  scene  presents,  and  they 
affect  him  according  to  their  nature;  and  as  they 
affect  him,  so  does  he  speak,  in  the  words  of  man. 
For  the  feelings  implanted  in  man  must,  to  some 
extent,  be  the  same  as  those  existing  in  the  bosom 
of  God.  Man  was  made  in  God's  image  in  respect 
of  his  feelings  as  truly  as  in  respect  of  his  under- 
standing ;  the  human  heart  is  the  counterpart  of 
the  divine,  just  as  Israel's  earthly  tabernacle  was 
the  copy  of  that  which  is  above.  Hence  it  is 
that  God  so  often  uses  the  language  of  human  feel- 
ing. It  is  not  merely  that  God  is  condescending 
to  man  (though  this  is  true),  but  it  is  also  because 
the  heart  of  man,  beino;  fashioned  after  that  of 
God,  the  language  that  gives  utterance  to  the  feel- 
ings of  the  former,  will,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
according  to  circumstances,  give  utterance  to  the 
feelings  of  the  latter.  God's  love,  hatred,  wrath, 
pity,  joy,  grief,  are  all  real;  and  they  are,  in  kind, 
the  same  as  man's,  only  there  is  no  sin  in  them ;  so 
that  we  may  say,  that  all  the  feelings  of  man  that 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  299 

are  holy,  or  that  can  be  called  forth  without  sin,  do 
exist  in  God. 

But  now  let  us  look  at  the  words  of  our  text, — 
"  repenting/' — "  grieving  at  the  heart." 

1.  Repent. — The  word  frequently  occurs  in  the 
same  connection  as  in  our  text  ;  Ex.  xxxii.  14, 
"  The  Lord  repented  of  the  evil  which  he  thought 
to  do  unto  his  people  "  (see  also  1  Sam.  xv.  11,  35  ; 
Jer.  xxvi.  13,  19).  In  these  and  other  like  pas- 
sages, it  denotes  that  change  of  mind  which  is  pro- 
duced towards  an  object  by  an  alteration  of  circum- 
stances. Nor  is  this  inconsistent  with  unchange- 
ableness  in  God.  It  is  true  that  he  is  without 
variableness  or  shadow  of  turning  ;  there  is  no 
caprice  or  vacillation  in  him.  But  his  unchange- 
ableness  is  not  a  mere  arbitrary  principle, — a  thing 
which  makes  him  feel  the  same  towards  a  person, 
however  he  may  change  from  good  to  evil,  or  from 
bad  to  worse.  It  does  not  mean  that  his  proceed- 
ings are  unchangeable,  though  it  does  mean  that 
his  purposes  are  so  ;  nay,  the  very  change  of  his 
proceedings  may  be  the  result  and  manifestation  of 
the  unchangeableness  of  his  'purposes.  When  Adam 
fell,  God  changed  his  mind  towards  him  from 
favour  to  displeasure  ;  yet  that  was  just  the  result 
of  his  unchangeableness.  When  a  sinner  repents, 
God  changes  his  mind  toward  him  ;  yet,  this  is  not 
changeableness  ;  nay,  it  is  the  carrying  out  of  his 
unchangeableness.  His  iC  changing,"  in  such  cases, 
is  the  display  of  his  holiness  and  wisdom.  Were 
he  not  to  change,  it  would  be  mere  arbitrariness, 


300  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

— it  would  not  be  wisdom,  but  foolishness.  His 
"  repentance  "  is  not  only  the  true  and  necessary 
expression  of  holy  feeling,  but  it  is  part  of  his 
unchangeable  purpose. 

2.  Grieve. — The  word  used  in  reference  to  man, 
is  found  in  such  places  as  the  following  :  2  Sam. 
xix.  2,  "  The  king  was  grieved  for  his  Son  ; '  and, 
in  reference  to  God,  in  such  as  the  following  : 
Ps.  lxxviii.  40,  ei  How  oft  did  they  provoke  him  in 
the  wilderness,  and  grieve  him  in  the  desert  !"  and 
Isa.  lxiii.  10,  "They  rebelled  and  vexed'  (Heb. 
grieved)  "  his  Holy  Spirit."  In  these  passages  the 
word  denotes  simply  and  truly  what  we  call 
"grief;"  and  then,  in  the  passage  before  us,  as  if 
to  deepen  the  intensity  of  the  expression,  and  to 
shew  how  thoroughly  real  was  the  feeling  indicated, 
it  is  added,  "  at  his  heart."  The  grief  spoken  of 
is  as  true  as  it  is  profound.  It  is  not  the  grief  of 
words.  It  is  not  the  grief  of  fancy  or  sentiment. 
It  is  true  sorrow  of  heart.  How  this  can  be,  in 
the  bosom  of  the  blessed  One,  it  is  not  easy  to 
shew.  How  he  can  remain  unruffled  and  unbroken, 
in  his  infinite  tranquillity  of  being,  while  "  grieved 
at  heart11  because  of  his  rebellious  creatures,  is 
difficult  to  explain.  How  his  heaven  can  abide  as 
bright  as  ever,  without  a  shade  over  its  dwellings, 
or  sackcloth  upon  its  dwellers,  while  he  is  mourn- 
ing over  the  ruin  of  a  world  and  the  wretchedness 
of  a  guilty  child,  we  cannot  say.  We  take  the 
words  as  we  find  them, — especially  as  it  is  but  one 
out  of  the  many  similar  utterances  of  which  Scrip- 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  301 

ture  is  full, — utterances  all  confirmed  and  reiterated 
by  the  Son  of  God,  when  he  wept  over  the  doomed 
and  apostate  Jerusalem. 

Yet,  after  all,  what  greater  difficulty  should  we 
find  in  understanding  this  sorrowful  commiseration 
for  the  lost,  than  in  comprehending  the  joy  with 
which  all  heaven  is  made  to  resound  because  of 
even  one  sinner  saved  ?  Shall  heaven  ring  with 
gladness  when  one  soul  is  plucked  from  the  devour- 
ing fire ;  and  must  it  be  passive  when  millions  plunge 
into  the  everlasting  burnings  ?  Is  salvation  a 
thing  so  very  blessed  as  to  occasion  new  joy  in  the 
bosom  of  God,  and  be  the  occasion  of  a  new  song  ; 
and  is  damnation  such  a  trifle  as  to  be  beheld 
unmoved  ?  Is  the  saved  soul's  deliverance,  and 
recovery  of  sonship,  so  glorious,  as  to  draw  forth 
the  utterance  of  the  divine  complacency  "  in  the 
presence  of  the  angels  ;"  and  shall  the  sinner's 
ruin,  the  lost  soul's  funeral,  call  forth  no  feeling  at 
all  ?  Would  this  be  true  perfection  ?  Passivity 
and  insensibility  were  not  the  perfection  of  Him 
who  wept  over  doomed  Jerusalem  ;  can  they  be 
the  perfection  of  Godhead  ? 


SEKMON  XXXVI. 

THE  SINCERITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION. 

"  It  repented  the  Lord  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  and  it 
grieved  him  at  his  heart. — Gen.  vi.  6. 

We  come  now  to  ask,  why  did  the  Lord  thus  grieve 
at  his  heart  ? 

1.  He  grieved  to  see  the  change  which  sin  had 
made  in  the  work  of  his  hands.  Once  it  was  "very 
good,  "  and  in  this  he  had  rejoiced.  Now,  how 
altered !  So  altered  that  it  could  hardly  be  recog- 
nised as  the  same.  Creation  was  a  wreck.  The 
world  lay  in  ruins.  Man's  glory  had  departed. 
The  fair  image  of  his  Maker  was  gone !  How  could 
the  Creator  behold  so  sad  a  change,  and  not  be 
"grieved  at  his  heart!"  How  could  he  look  upon 
the  sin,  the  ruin,  the  darkness,  the  defilement, 
and  not  feel?  God  cannot  be  indifferent  to  the 
desolation  which  sin  produces,  even  when  right- 
eousness constrains  him  not  to  interfere  for  its 
prevention,  but  ouly  for  its  punishment.  Yes, 
he  feels  it,  he  mourns  over  it,  all  the  more, 
because  mercy  has  reached  its  utmost  limit,  and 
righteousness  demands  the  forthputting  of  his 
almightiness  to  avenge,  and  not  to  save.     It  may 

seem  strange  that  a  being  of  infinite  power  should 
302 


SINCERITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.         303 

grieve  over  that  which  the  exercise  of  almightincss 
could  have  prevented.  But  let  us  not  forget  that 
there  is  righteousness  as  well  as  almiglitiness  in  God, 
and  that,  while  his  power  can  he  limited  or  re- 
strained by  nothing  out  of  hL  elf,  it  is  and  must 
be  limited  by  his  other  perfections,  so  that  his 
almiglitiness  cannot  accomplish  anything  that  is 
unrighteous.  When,  therefore,  his  power  has 
reached  its  righteous  limits,  and  can  no  longer  be 
put  forth  towards  the  sinner,  then  it  is  that  he  is 
grieved  at  heart.  He  is  grieved  that  sin  has  got  to 
such  a  height  that  the  works  of  his  own  hands 
must  be  destroyed,  that  they  must  be  put  away 
from  his  sight  as  an  unclean  thing. 

2.  He  grieved  at  the  dishonour  thus  brought 
upon  himself.  It  was,  indeed,  but  a  temporary 
dishonour;  it  was  one  which  he  would  soon  repair; 
bat  still,  it  was  an  obscuration  of  his  own  fair 
character ;  it  was  a  clouding  of  his  glory  ;  it  was  an 
eclipse,  however  transient.  It  was  like  a  wound 
inflicted  by  a  most  unlooked  for  hand,  which, 
however  quickly  healed,  could  not  but  be  sorely 
felt.  How  could  he  but  be  grieved  at  heart  at 
being  thus  dishonoured  by  those  whom  he  had 
made  to  glorify  him, — dishonoured  by  a  favourite 
child, — dishonoured  by  those  who,  he  might  well 
expect,  would  have  been  specially  sensitive  on 
such  a  point,  peculiarly  tender  and  jealous  of  his 
honour. 

3.  He  grieved  at  man's  misery.  Man  had  not 
been  made  for  misery.       Happiness,  like    a   rich 


304  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

jewel,  had  been  entrusted  to  him.  He  had  flung 
it  away,  as  worthless  and  undesirable.  Not  only 
had  he  taken  no  pains  to  retain  the  treasure,  but 
he  had  laboured  to  alienate  it.  He  had  offered  it 
for  sale  to  every  passer  by  ;  nay,  he  had  cast  it 
from  him  as  vile.  He  had  plunged  himself  into 
misery  ;  he  had  refused  to  be  happy ;  he  had  not 
only  said  to  evil,  "  Evil,  be  thou  my  good ;"  but  he 
had  said  to  sorrow,  "  Sorrow,  be  thou  my  joy." 
This  wretchedness  filled  his  soul,  and  overshadowed 
this  once  blessed  earth.  How,  then,  could  God 
but  grieve  ?  He  is  the  infinitely  blessed  God ;  he 
knows  what  blessedness  is,  and  what  the  want  of 
it  must  be.  Could  he,  then,  fail  to  be  grieved  at 
his  heart  ?  He  grieves  over  the  sinner's  wretched- 
ness,  as  Jesus  wept  over  Jerusalem.  These  fears 
and  that  grief  are  the  same.  "  How  often  would  I 
have  gathered  thee!"  "If  thou  hadst  known." 
"  0  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  command- 
ments !"  "Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might 
have  life."  Such  are  some  of  the  utterances  of  this 
divine  grief.  And  then  he  saw  the  eternity  of  man's 
wretchedness.  It  was  no  lifetimes  sorrow  that  lay 
before  man.  It  was  an  eternal  woe.  The  infinite 
eye  of  Jehovah  looked  through  that  whole  eternity, 
realised  its  bitterness  and  anguish, — saw  the  tor- 
ment,  the  darkness,  the  worm,  the  fire,  the  second 
death ;  and  seeing  these,  he  was  grieved  at  his 
heart.  For  he  has  no  pleasure  in  man's  sorrow, 
either  the  sorrow  of  an  hour,  or  the  sorrow  of  a 
whole  eternity.     It  is   no  joy  to  him  that  man 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  305 

should  be  wretched.  Nay,  it  grieves  him  at  his 
heart.  Fury  is  not  in  him.  Vengeance  is  his 
trange  work.  His  joy  is  to  bless,  not  to  curse  ;  to 
save,  not  to  destroy.  He  takes  oath  before  the  uni- 
verse that  he  has  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked,  but  rather  that  thev  should  turn  and  live. 
4.  He  grieved  that  now  he  must  be  the  infiictor 
of  man's  misery.  No  alternative  remains.  There 
had,  for  long  years,  been  an  alternative.  He  could 
be  gracious ;  he  could  be  long-suffering ;  he  could 
pardon ;  or,  if  not  actually  pardon,  he  could  sus- 
pend the  gathering  vengeance,  he  could  delay  the 
stroke.  But  now  this  alternative  is  denied.  Such 
was  the  accumulation  of  sin ;  such  was  its  hateful- 
ness ;  such  were  its  aggravations,  that  grace  can  no 
longer  hold  out  against  righteousness ;  long-suffer- 
ing has  exhausted  itself,  and  judgment  must  take 
its  course.  If  matters  are  allowed  to  go  on  as  they 
have  been  going,  the  law  will  become  a  dead  letter, 
the  divine  holiness  will  be  called  in  question,  the 
faithfulness  of  God  in  his  threateniii2;s  will  be  sus- 

CD 

pected ;  nay,  the  very  power  of  Jehovah  will  be 
denied, — as  if  it  were  insufficient  either  to  restrain 
the  evil  from  arising,  or  to  crush  it  when  it  has 
risen  to  such  a  pitch.  Mercy  had  long  prevailed 
against  judgment ;  now  judgment  prevails  against 
mercy.  Grace  had  done  wonders  for  the  sinner. 
To  do  more  would  be  to  subvert  righteousness,  and 
to  tamper  with  the  awfulness  of  law. 

As  the  gracious  Father,  he  had  hitherto  delayed 
the  vengeance ;  but  now,  as  the  righteous  Judge, 


u 


306  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

he  must  interpose.  He  has  long  lingered  in  his 
love,  yearning  over  his  rebellious  children ;  he  can 
linger  no  more.  His  strange  work  must  be  done, 
at  whatever  sacrifice,  either  to  himself  or  to  man. 
He  must  not  only  withhold  the  good,  he  must  visit 
with  the  evil,  and  he  must  do  it  himself.  He,  the 
Maker,  must  be  the  destroyer  too.  Man  must  be 
given  up  !  He  has  gone  beyond  the  limit  within 
which  grace  can  be  righteously  exercised.  He  has 
made  it  impossible  for  God  to  bless  him.  He  has 
put  it  out  of  God's  power  to  do  anything  more  in 
his  behalf.  He  has  made  it  a  matter  of  righteous 
necessity  that  God  should  execute  vengeance  upon 
him.  God  wanted  to  bless,  man  has  compelled 
him  to  curse.  God  wanted  to  save,  man  has  com- 
pelled him  to  destroy.  Condemnation,  wrath,  ruin, 
wretchedness  for  ever,  must  now  be  man's  portion  ! 
The  vessel  which  God  had  made,  and  meant  for 
honour  and  for  gladness,  must  become  a  vessel  of 
shame,  eternal  shame,  filled  with  gall  and  worm- 
wood !  No  wonder  that  it  grieved  him  at  his 
heart ! 

However  incomprehensible  the  subject  may  be; 
still  these  words  of  our  text  are  plain.  We  would 
not  explain  them  away.  We  would  not  dilute 
them,  or  rob  them  of  that  solemn  tenderness,  to 
which  they  give  such  mournful  utterance.  We 
would  not  add  to  them ;  but  neither  would  we  take 
from  them.  And  surely  they  do  affirm  that  God's 
grief  is  both  sincere  and  deep.  It  is  a  Creator's 
grief.     It  is  a  Father's  grief.     It  is  grief  such  as 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  307 

afterwards  uttered  itself,  over  Israel,  in  such  words 
as,  "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  0  Ephraim  ?  how 
shall  I  deliver  thee  up,  0  Israel  ?  how  shall  I  make 
thee  as  Admah,  how  shall  I  set  thee  as  Zeboim  ? 
mine  heart  is  turned  within  me ;  my  repentings  are 
kindled  together."  It  is  grief  such  as,  at  a  still 
later  day,  gave  vent  to  itself  in  Christ's  tears  over 
Jerusalem.  And  is  not  all  that  reality  ?  Was 
there  ever  reality  like  it  ?  Yet  all  this  does  not 
make  helLless  true,  nor  the  everlasting  burnings  less 
terrible. 

Many  seem  to  suppose  that,  because  God  has  not 
passions  such  as  we  have ;  that  because  he  is  not 
liable  to  emotions  like  ours ;  that  because  there  are 
no  such  swellings  and  subsidings  of  feverish  excite- 
ment, interfering  with  the  infinite  serenity  and 
blessedness  of  his  divine  being,  that  therefore  God 
does  not  feel;  that  it  would  be  degrading  him  to 
suppose  that  he  can  be  affected,  in  the  remotest 
degree,  by  the  alternations  of  joy  or  sorrow, — espe- 
cially in  so  far  as  the  condition  of  his  creatures 
can  be  conceived  as  being  the  source  of  either. 

It  is  not  so.  This  would  be  indifference,  not 
serenity.  It  would  make  Jehovah  not  the  God  who 
is  revealed  to  us  in  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  It  would 
make  him  inferior  to  his  creatures  in  all  those  tender 
affections  which  constitute  so  noble  a  part  of  our 
being.  It  would  invest  him  with  the  insensibility  of 
Stoicism.  But  with  him  whom  we  call  our  God. 
there  is  no  such  insensibility,  no  such  Stoicism. 
He  is  love.     He  is  the  God  of  all  grace.     He  is 


308  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

merciful  and  gracious,  long-suffering,  slow  to  anger, 
keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity, 
transgression,  and  sin.  He  so  loved  the  world  as 
to  irive  his  onlv-beirotten  Son.  It  is  written  of 
him,  that  "his  soul  was  grieved  for  the  miseries 
of  Israel;"  that  "in  all  their  affliction  he  was 
afflicted."  He  stoops  over  us  in  the  fondness  of  pa- 
rental love.  He  yearns  over  us.  He  longs  to  see 
us  happy.  He  delights  to  bless.  His  strange  work 
is  to  curse.  Nay,  he  is  the  very  fountainhead  of 
love.  All  the  affections  of  man's  soul  are  but  the 
copy  of  his  ;  faint  indeed  and  dim,  yet  truly  the 
copy,  the  counterpart,  the  earthly  likeness  of  the 
heavenly  reality.  Man's  heart  is,  in  all  the  affec- 
tions that  are  holy,  the  very  transcript  of  God's. 
In  God  is  the  birthplace  of  all  feeling,  and  shall  he 
not  feel  ?  With  him  is  the  well-spring  of  all 
affection,  and  shall  he  be  cold,  and  divested  of  all 
loving  sympathies  ?  Shall  he  give  to  man  such 
powers  of  emotion,  constituting  the  divinest  part 
of  our  nature,  and  shall  he  himself  be  unmoved 
and  immoveable  ?  He  is  the  Father  of  spirits,  and 
shall  he  so  entirely  differ  from  the  spirits  that  he 
has  made  ?  He  made  them  in  his  own  image  ;  and 
is  that  image  nothing  but  unsympathising  callous- 
ness ?  Is  it  but  the  ice,  or  the  rock,  or  the  iron  ? 
He  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  revelation  of  his  mind 
and  heart  ;  and  do  we  not  see,  from  that  Son,  how 
deeply  the  Father  feels  ?  Do  we  not  see  in  him, 
who  is  his  perfect  image,  what  is  the  Creator's 
sympathy  for  his  creatures  in  their  joys  and  sorrows? 


THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION.  309 

Do  we  not  see  in  him,  with  what  strength  he  can 
hate  the  sin,  and  yet  love,  nay,  weep  over,  the 
sinner  ?  Ay,  and  does  not  the  Holy  Spirit  also 
unfold  his  feelings  ?  And  do  we  not  read  of  that 
Spirit  being  resisted,  vexed,  grieved,  as  if  sorrowing 
over  our  coldness,  our  neglect,  our  unbelief,  our 
ungodliness  ? 

What,  then,  can  these  things  mean,  but  that  our 
God  truly  and  deeply  feels  ?  There  can,  indeed,  be 
nothing  carnal,  nothing  allied  to  imperfection  or 
weakness,  in  such  sensibility  ;  but  to  suppose  him 
to  be  devoid  of  feeling,  as  we  too  often  do,  is  to 
deny  him  to  be  perfectly  and  truly  God  !  Ah  !  it 
is  only  when  we  learn  how  profoundly  he  feels,  that 
we  know  aright  the  character  of  that  God  with 
whom  we  have  to  do.  It  is  only  when  we  realise 
how  sincerely  he  yearns,  and  pities,  and  joys,  and 
grieves,  and  loves,  that  we  understand  that  revela- 
tion which  he  has  made  of  himself  in  the  gospel  of 
his  grace,  and  in  the  person  of  his  Incarnate  Son. 
Nor  till  then  do  we  feel  the  unutterable  malig- 
nity of  sin,  as  being  a  grieving  of  God,  a  vexing  of 
his  loving  Spirit,  and  become  rightly  alive  to  the 
depravity  of  our  own  rebellious  natures.  It  is  only 
then  that  we  can  cordially  enter  into  God's  condem- 
nation of  the  evil,  and  sympathise  with  him  in  that 
which  makes  him  grieve.  Never,  till  we  give  him 
credit  for  feeling  as  he  says  he  does,  can  we  really 
long  for  deliverance  from  that  which  is  not  only  the 
abominable  thing  which  he  hates,  but  that  thing  of 
evil  and  sorrow  over  which  he  so  sincerely  mourns. 


o 


10     THE  SINCERITY  OF  THE  DIVINE  COMPASSION. 


It  is  this  which  gives  such  power  to  God's  expos- 
tulations with  the  sinner,  and  his  appeals  to  the 
sinner's  conscience  and  heart.  We  are  apt  to  treat 
these  utterances  of  God  as  mere  words  of  course, 
-  or,  at  least,  as  words  which,  however  gracious  in 
themselves,  could  not  be  supposed  to  embody  the 
feelings  of  him  from  whom  they  come.  It  is  far 
otherwise.  God  not  only  means  what  he  says,  but 
he  feels  what  he  says.  He  is  not  unconcerned  about 
our  condition,  or  indifferent  to  the  reception  or 
rejection  of  his  messages.  When  he  says,  "  I  have 
no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked,"  he  utters 
the  deep  feeling  of  his  heart.  When  he  says, 
"  How  shall  I  give  thee  up  ? ':  he  shews  us  how 
he  feels.  When  he  says,  "  0  that  thou  hadst 
hearkened  to  my  commandments,"  he  tells  us  how 
he  feels.  And  when  his  only-begotten  Son,  in  the 
days  of  his  flesh,  said  to  the  unbelieving  Jews, 
"Ye  will  not  come  unto  me,  that  ye  might  have 
life,"  he  shewed  us  how  truly,  in  this  respect,  the 
Father  and  the  Son  are  one,  and  that  to  each  poor 
child  of  earth,  however  erring,  however  dark,  how- 
ever unbelieving,  however  rebellious,  he  is  stretch- 
ing out  his  hands  in  love,  and,  not  the  less  sincerely, 
because,  to  tens  of  thousands,  he  is  stretching  out 
these  hands  in  vain. 


SERMON    XXXVII. 

THE    SINCERITY    OF    DIVINE    EXPOSTULATIONS. 

"  Therefore,  0  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto  the  house  of  Israel,  Thus 
ye  speak,  saying,  If  our  transgressions  and  our  sins  he  upon  us,  and  we 
pine  away  in  them,  how  should  we  then  live?  Say  unto  them,  As  I  live, 
saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked  ;  hut 
that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live :  turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your 
evil  ways ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  0  house  of  Israel." — Ezek.  xxxiii.  10, 11. 

Let  us  beware  of  putting  a  human  and  finite  con- 
struction upon  things  divine  and  infinite.  We  need 
to  keep  these  words  in  mind,  "  My  thoughts  are 
not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways." 
God's  character  stands  out  as  the  contrast  of  man's, 
even  as  light  is  the  contrast  of  darkness,  as  para- 
dise is  the  contrast  of  the  waste  howling  wilderness. 

1.  What  a  contrast  are  God's  thoughts  of  man  to 
man's  thoughts  of  God  !  God  is  seen  yearning  over 
his  poor  wanderer  with  the  profoundest  compassion, 
cherishing  thoughts  of  peace  and  friendship  towards 
him  ;  man  is  seen  suspecting  God,  looking  on  him 
as  a  hard  master,  an  austere  man,  reaping  where 
he  has  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  he  has  not 
strawed. 

2.  How  opposite  are  God's  feelings  towards  man 
to  man's  feelings  respecting  God  !  The  one  love, 
the  other  hatred  ;  the  one  kindness  and  goodwill, 
the  other  enmity  ! 


311 


312  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

3.  How  different  God's  estimate  of  man  from 
man's  estimate  of  God  !  God's  estimate  of  the 
value  of  man  is  the  price  he  paid  for  him, — his 
own  Son  ;  man's  estimate  of  God  is  the  price  he 
offered  for  the  Son  of  God, — thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

4.  How  unlike  God's  purposes  to  man's  !  God 
says  to  man,  "  Live  ;"  man  says  to  God,  Let  him 
die  the  death ;  crucify  him  ;  this  is  the  heir  ;  come, 
let  us  kill  him. 

5.  How  far  asunder  are  God's  ways  from  man's  ! 
God's  are  all  towards  man,  in  the  direction  of  recon- 
ciliation ;  man's  are  all  away  from  God,  repelling 
his  fellowship,  and  heedless  of  his  favour. 

Such  is  the  contrast  presented  in  these  two  verses. 
In  the  former  (10th),  we  have  the  state  of  man's 
heart  in  reference  to  God  ;  in  the  latter,  the  state 
of  God's  heart  in  reference  to  man.  Let  us  take 
up  in  succession  these  two  points. 

I.  The  state  of  maris  heart  in  reference  to  God. 
This  10  th  verse  clearly  refers  to  Israel's  revengeful 
murmurings  against  Jehovah.  God  had  visited 
them  both  with  warning  and  entreaty,  with  threats 
and  invitations.  These  being  utterly  slighted,  judg- 
ment smote  them.  Still  God  continues  entreating 
and  inviting.  The  judgments  are  not  removed, 
but  the  gracious  messages  remain  ;  nay,  are  multi- 
plied. This  was  the  state  of  things  which  drew 
forth  the  rebellious  mutterings  of  our  text.  Mes- 
sages of  mercy,  in  the  midst  of  judgments,  were  what 
they  could  neither  comprehend  nor  endure.    It  was 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  313 

this  that  raised  their  enmity  to  its  utmost  pitch  of 
blasphemous  defiance.  They  did  not,  they  would 
not,  see  how  perfectly  consistent  these  were  with 
each  other  ;  the  grace  not  contradicting  the  judg- 
ment, nor  the  judgment  cancelling  the  grace,  but 
both  together  forming  a  blessed  and  marvellous  com- 
bination of  goodness  and  severity.  But  they  set 
the  one  against  the  other  as  if  they  were  irrecon- 
cilable, and  the  one  the  mockery  of  the  other. 
They  murmured,  they  fretted,  they  cavilled,  they 
sneered  :  "  If  our  transgressions  be  upon  us,  and  we 
are  pining  away  under  them,  how  should  we  then 
live  !  That  is,  You  tell  us  of  life  ;  you  promise  us 
life  ;  yet  we  find  judgment  lying  on  us  in  full 
weight  ;  we  find  ourselves  pining,  perishing,  con- 
suming away  ;  is  it  not  mockery  to  speak  to  us  of 
life  ?  Is  not  the  message  of  life  a  falsehood  ;  and  is 
not  God  insincere  in  sending  it  ?  Surely,  if  we  do 
perish,  we  are  not  to  blame ;  let  him  bear  the  blame 
who  is  wounding  us  to  death,  and  yet  mocking  us 
with  the  promise  of  life  !"  Desperate  and  daring 
words  !  How  fearful  to  hear  the  creature  thus 
blaspheming,  to  see  him  fighting  against  the  God 
that  made  him,  especially  when  that  God  is  entreat- 
ing him  in  all  the  tenderness  of  divine  love,  yearning 
over  him  in  all  the  lingering  fondness  of  paternal 
pity  and  unextinguished  grace  ! 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  sinner  murmurs  still.  It 
is  thus  that  he  reasons  against  God,  struggling  with 
the  Almighty,  contending  with  his  power,  rushing 
against  the  thick  bosses  of  his  buckler. 


314  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

He  murmurs  against  God  for  not  giving  him  life. 
He  hears  the  promise  of  life,  yet  feels  that  he  has 
none  ;  and  he  asks,  Why  am  I  thus  ?  God  promises 
life.  He  proclaims  his  willingness  to  give  it.  I 
have  no  life.  Is  he  not  mocking  me  ?  Christ 
promises  rest.  I  have  none.  Can  he  be  sincere  ? 
I  have  been  doing  all  I  can, — striving,  praying, 
reading  books,  amending  my  ways,  using  means  ; 
still  there  is  no  peace,  no  life  for  me.  Can  the 
message  be  a  true  one  ? 

Nay,  more,  he  casts  the  whole  blame  of  his  death 
on  God.  He  says,  I  see  that  I  must  just  die  ; 
there  is  no  help  for  it  ;  the  blame  is  not  mine,  but 
God's.  Death  may  be  my  portion  hereafter  ;  but 
how  can  I  help  dying  ?  how  can  I  help  sinning  ? 
If  sin  and  death  are  my  lot,  let  God  see  to  it.  My 
fallen  nature,  my  education,  my  circumstances,  my 
temptations, — these  are  my  excuses.  Thus  he  ac- 
cuses God  of  his  sin,  and  of  his  doom.  He  has  done 
all  he  can,  and  God  will  not  give  him  life  ;  must 
not  God  be  the  sole  author  of  his  ruin  ?  To  this 
we  answer,  No  ;  God  is  not  the  author  of  a  man's 
sin,  or  of  his  death.  He  is  pure  of  their  blood. 
The  evil  is  not  of  God,  but  of  man.  If  they  perish, 
the  guilt  is  all  their  own.  For  mark,  the  sin  is 
their  own,  wholly  their  own.  No  one  forces  them 
to  sin.  God  does  not  force  them  to  sin,  and  Satan 
cannot  force  them.  Their  sin  is  their  own,  in  the 
fullest  sense.  But  more :  it  is  wholly  they  who  are 
to  blame  for  their  not  being  delivered  ;  for  the  real 
and  true  reason  why  they  are  not  delivered  is,  that 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  315 

they  will  not  take  life  in  God's  way,  and  upon  God's 
terms.  They  may  be  willing  enough  to  have  it, 
but  not  in  God's  way.  They  insist  on  paying  for 
it,  or  meriting  it,  or  doing  something  towards  its 
attainment,  or  at  least  towards  rendering  themselves 
not  wholly  unworthy  of  its  being  conferred  upon 
them.  And  when  God  tells  them  that  it  is  bought 
already,  and  cannot  be  bought  over  by  them,  that 
it  cannot  be  earned  by  them,  that  if  they  will  not 
take  it  free  they  cannot  have  it  at  all,  they  turn 
round  upon  him,  and,  in  the  fierce  rage  and  dark 
rebellion  of  disappointed  pride,  urged  on  and  em- 
bittered by  the  deep  anguish  of  their  wretched  souls, 
exclaim,  It  is  all  a  mockery,  a  deception  !  As  if  it 
were  some  relief  to  them,  in  their  anguish,  to  find 
God  insincere,  and  to  be  able  to  fling  upon  him  the 
blame  of  their  perdition. 

There  may  be  some  here  thus  putting  life  away 
from  them.  You  feel  your  need  of  it;  you  are 
wretched  under  a  sense  of  the  want  of  it  ;  and  jet 
you  are  refusing  it.  You  will  not  have  it  after  all ; 
for  the  terms  do  not  please  you.  This  life  becomes 
yours,  not  by  toiling  or  struggling,  but  simply  by 
receiving  the  divine  testimony  concerning  it, — by 
listening  to  the  voice  of  Him  who,  while  he  says, 
"  Ye  will  not  come  to  me  that  ye  might  have  life," 
says,  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life ;"  "He 
that  believeth  on  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live."  Could  the  blessing  be  cheaper  ? 
Could  it  be  had  on  easier,  simpler  terms  ?  Could 
it  be  brought  nearer,  or  could  you  be  made  more 


316  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

entirely  welcome  to  it  ?  It  is  not  by  climbing  some 
inaccessible  hill,  or  treading  your  darksome  way 
through  some  tangled  forest ;  it  is  just  by  sitting 
down  where  you  are  at  this  moment,  and  drinking 
of  that  well  of  living  water  that  is  bursting  up 
freshly  at  your  side. 

The  life  of  a  sinner,  as  such,  can  only  end  in  the 
second  death.  If  it  is  to  end  in  gladness,  and  to 
run  on  into  the  life  everlasting,  it  must  be  begun 
over  again.  The  evil  does  nof  lie  merely  in  the 
leaves  and  branches  of  the  tree,  but  in  the  stem 
and  root ;  the  sap  is  tainted,  and  unless  that  is 
healed,  all  efforts  at  improvement  are  vain.  It  was 
this,  evidently,  that  the  Lord  meant  to  tell  Nico- 
demus,  when  he  startled  him  with  the  awful  words, 
"  Ye  must  be  born  again."  Our  whole  life  must 
be  treated  as  utterly  evil,  our  spiritual  life-blood 
thoroughly  corrupted  ;  and  no  remedy  can  be  of 
any  use  save  that  which  goes  to  the  very  source. 
The  sinners  life  must  be  recommenced  from  its  very 
first  outset.  It  is  not  merely  to  be  gone  over  and 
retouched  ;  but  it  is  begun  anew,  as  if  it  had  never 
existed  before.  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee, 
except  A  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the 
kingdom  of  God'   (John  hi.  3). 

It  is  the  disbelief  or  forgetfulness  of  this  that 
produces  so  much  false  religion,  so  many  abortions, 
so  many  half-discipleships,  so  many  shipwrecks  of 
faith.  The  religion  of  form  and  rite,  of  lukewarm- 
ness  and  compromise,  of  sentiment  and  fashion,  of 
intellect  and   philosophy,   has  begun    somewhere 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  317 

short  of  this, — short  of  the  birth  from  above.  It 
may  have  gone  back  a  considerable  way,  but  not 
to  the  very  beginning.  It  may  have  dug  a  little 
way  down,  to  reach  some  kind  of  foundation,  but 
not  deep  enough  to  reach  the  one  sure  foundation 
laid  in  Zion.  In  this  it  falls  short,  and  therefore 
totally  fails.  It  does  not  matter  how  long  the  cable 
may  be  ;  if  it  be  but  one  foot  too  short,  it  is  use- 
less. So  it  does  not  matter  how  greatly  a  man  may 
change  his  life,  or  how  religious  he  may  make  it. 
Unless  he  begin  it  all  over  again  ;  unless  we  be 
"  born  of  the  Spirit,"  it  profits  nothing.  The  one 
authentic  commencement  of  religion  in  the  soul  of 
a  man,  is  the  being  born  again,  "  not  of  corruptible 
seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the  word  of  God  which 
liveth  and  abideth  for  ever  '  (1  Pet.  i.  23).  And, 
as  it  was  connection  with  the  death  of  the  first 
Adam  that  wrought  our  ruin,  so  it  is  connection 
with  the  resurrection  of  the  second  Adam  that 
works  restoration  and  blessedness.  "  We  are 
begotten  again  unto  a  lively  hope,  by  the  resur- 
rection of  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead'1  (1.  Pet. 
i.  3). 

That  well-known  apostle  of  the  last  century, 
John  Berridge,  wrote  his  own  epitaph  some  years 
before  his  death  ;  and  in  it  he  left  his  solemn  testi- 
mony on  this  point.  It  is  a  sermon  in  itself. 
"  Here  lie  the  earthly  remains  of  John  Berridge, 
late  vicar  of  Everton,  an  itinerant  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ,  who  loved  his  Master  and  his  work  ;  and 
after  running  on  his  errands  many  years,  was  called 


318       THE  SINCERITY  OF  DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS. 

up  to  wait  on  him  above.     Reader  !  art  thou  born 
again  ?     No  salvation  without  a  new  birth" 

Unready  sinner  !  yonder  is  the  Judge,  and  the 
throne,  and  the  gathering  crowd,  waiting  their 
sentence  !  Hear  the  shout,  and  the  trumpet,  and 
the  thunder,  and  the  voice  of  Majesty  !  Are  you 
looking  out,  or  are  you  asleep  ?  Are  you  prepar- 
ing, or  are  you  resolved  to  risk  everything,  and 
brave  the  Judge  of  all  ?  What  is  time  worth  ? 
What  is  gain,  or  pleasure,  or  sin,  or  earth  worth  ? 
Nothing.  What  is  the  soul  worth  ?  What  are 
heaven,  and  God,  and  Christ,  and  the  kingdom, 
and  the  glory,  worth  ?  Everything.  And  yet 
these  are  nothing  to  you  !  One  piece  of  earth's 
gold,  one  acre  of  land,  one  smile  of  gay  companion- 
ship, one  wreath  of  the  world's  honour,  one  day  of 
time's  power  and  greatness,  you  would  prefer  to  all 
that  is  divine  and  eternal !  0  madness  of  the 
human  heart,  how  unsearchable  and  incurable  ! 
0  spell  of  sin,  how  potent  and  enthralling  !  0 
snare  of  the  evil  one,  how  blinding,  how  fatal,  how 
successful  I 


SERMON  XXXVIII. 

THE   SINCERITY  OF  DIVINE   EXPOSTULATIONS. 

"  Therefore,  0  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto  the  house  of  Israel,  Thus 
ye  speak,  saying,  If  our  transgressions  and  our  sins  be  upon  us,  and  we 
pine  away  in  them,  how  should  we  then  live?  Say  unto  them,  As  I  live, 
saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked;  but 
that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live :  turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your 
evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  0  house  of  Israel?" — EzEK.xxxiii.  10,  11. 

II.  Having  thus  seen,  from  the  tenth  verse,  the 
state  of  man's  heart  in  reference  to  God,  let  us 
mark  the  state  of  God's  heart  in  reference  to  man,  as 
we  find  it  brought  out  in  the  eleventh  verse  :  "As 
I  live,  saith  the  Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
the  death  of  the  wicked  ;  but  that  the  wicked  turn 
from  his  way  and  live  :  turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your 
evil  ways  ;  for  why  will  ye  die,  0  house  of  Israel?" 

It  is  thus  that  God  meets  Israel's  hard  thoughts 
concerning  him.  Instead  of  being  provoked  to 
anger  by  this  most  daring  rebelliousness,  he  answers 
their  suspicious  unbelief  by  a  reiteration  of  his 
words  of  grace.  How  patient,  how  longsuffering, 
how  condescending  !  Instead  of  executing  ven- 
geance, he  renews  the  assurances  of  his  most  un- 
feigned and  affectionate  interest  in  their  welfare. 
Unmoved  by  their  horrid  taunts  and  charges  of 
insincerity,  he  approaches  them  in  the  posture  of 

a  friend ;  he  repeats  the  declaration  of  his  gracious 
319 


o 


20  THE  SINCERITY  OF 


mind ;  he  adds  new,  and  larger,  and  fuller  asseve- 
rations of  his  unwearied  and  inexhaustible  com- 
passion. Nay,  in  order  to  efface  every  suspicion, 
and  anticipate  every  form  and  shade  of  unbelief,  he 
adds  his  oath, — his  oath  as  the  living  God, — that 
by  two  immutable  things  in  which  it  was  impos- 
sible for  God  to  lie,  they  might  have  the  most 
deliberate  assurance  of  his  gracious  mind,  and  the 
remotest  possibility  of  such  a  charge  against  him- 
self as  that  of  insincerity  to  be  provided  against. 

God  has  thus  in  the  most  solemn  way  declared 
to  us  his  loving  intentions.  He  has  laid  bare  the 
inmost  thoughts  of  his  heart.  He  tells  us  that 
these  thoughts  are  the  very  opposite  of  ours ;  that 
his  desire  is  not  to  curse, but  to  bless;  not  to  destroy, 
but  to  save.  And  what  an  oath  is  this !  It  is  not 
the  oath  of  a  man,  but  of  the  eternal  God  ;  of  him 
who  liveth  for  ever  and  ever.  As  if  his  word  might 
be  called  in  question,  he  adds  his  oath.  He  swears 
by  himself,  because  he  could  swear  by  no  greater ; 
he  swears  by  his  own  life, — the  greatest  of  all 
realities,  the  most  certain  of  all  certainties.  "  As 
surely  as  I  am, — as  surely  as  I  am  Jehovah, — so 
certainly  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked."  What  an  infinite  certainty  is  this !  "An 
oath  for  confirmation  is,"  the  apostle  says,  "  an 
end  of  all  strife."  So  should  this  oath  be  to  the 
sinner  an  end  of  all  suspicion,  of  all  doubt,  as  to  the 
gracious  mind  of  God.  How  anxious  must  Jehovah 
be  to  meet  and  remove  all  your  jealous  fears, — to 
convince  you  that  he  is  not  the  false  being  which 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  321 

you  take  him  to  be, — that  he  is  sincere  in  his 
desires  to  bless  you  !  0  sinner,  what  could  you 
have  more  than  this  ?  If  this  will  not  make  you 
ashamed  of  your  unbelief,  what  will  ?  If  this 
will  not  convince  you  of  God's  honesty  and  true- 
hearted  yearning  over  you,  what  will  or  can  ? 
Ah,  how  unfeigned,  as  well  as  how  infinite,  are  his 
thoughts  of  grace  towards  you  !  And  is  there  not 
something  in  this  gracious  commiseration,  so 
solemnly  affirmed  upon  oath,  fitted  irresistibly  to 
attract  and  win  the  most  jealous  and  unbelieving 
heart  ? 

Let  us  consider  now  the  substance  of  this  divine 
declaration,  thus  made  on  oath,  and  recorded  for 
the  sinner's  use  in  all  ages.  It  is  a  twofold  decla- 
ration :  In  the  first  part  of  it  God  denies  the  impu- 
tation cast  upon  him,  of  seeking  the  sinner's  death ; 
in  the  second,  he  declares  himself  to  be  most  sin- 
cerely desirous  of  his  life. 

1.  He  has  no  pleasure  in  their  death.  This  does 
not  imply  that  the  wicked  shall  not  die.  No. 
The  wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell.  Millions 
have  already  perished;  millions  more  shall  perish. 
There  is  the  second  death,  the  death  beyond  which 
there  is  no  life  for  the  impenitent, — the  unquench- 
able fire,  the  everlasting  burnings.  But  still  it 
remains  true  that  God  has  no  pleasure  in  man's 
death.  He  did  not  kindle  hell  in  order  to  gratify 
his  revenge.  He  does  not  cast  sinners  headlong 
into  its  endless  flames  in  order  to  get  vent  to  his 

blind   fury.     No.     He   has  no   pleasure  in  their 

x 


322  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

death.  He  will  finally  condemn  the  unbelieving, 
but  not  because  he  delights  to  do  so,  but  because 
he  is  the  righteous  Lord  that  loveth  righteousness. 
Whatever  your  treacherous  heart  may  say,  what- 
ever your  jealous  suspicions  may  whisper,  it  remains 
a  truth  for  ever  true, — a  truth  affirmed  upon  oath, 
— that  God  has  no  pleasure  in  your  death  !  Are 
you  seeking  to  escape  eternal  death  ?  It  is  well. 
But  do  you  think  that  God  is  trying  to  thwart  you  ? 
Nay,  he  is  as  desirous  of  this  as  you  can  be,  only 
his  desires  run  in  a  righteous  channel,  and  he  can 
only  give  vent  to  them  in  a  righteous  way.  He  is 
not  bent  upon  your  rain.  Was  the  father  bent 
upon  the  ruin  of  his  prodigal  ?  Was  the  shepherd 
intent  upon  the  destruction  of  his  stray  sheep  ?  Was 
the  Son  of  God  delighting  in  the  desolation  of  Jeru- 
salem when  he  wept  over  it  ?  Or  was  the  God  of 
Israel  bent  upon  the  misery  of  his  people  when  he 
said,  "  How  shall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraim  ?  how 
shall  I  deliver  thee  up,  Israel  ?  how  shall  I  make 
thee  as  Aclmah  ?  how  shall  I  set  thee  as  Zeboim  ? 
Mine  heart  is  turned  within  me,  my  repentings  are 
kindled  together."  The  God  that  made  you  is  not 
your  deadly  enemy.  The  God  in  whom  you  live, 
and  move,  and  have  your  being,  has  no  pleasure  in 
your  death.  He  did  not  send  his  Son  to  destroy, 
but  to  save ;  he  did  not  nail  him  to  the  tree  that 
you  might  die,  but  live ;  he  did  not  send  his  Holy 
Spirit  to  seal  your  perdition,  but  to  pluck  you  as  a 
brand  from  the  burning. 

2.   Bis  desire  is,  that  the  wicked  should  turn  and 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  323 

lice.  As  in  the  first  clause  of  this  oath  he  denied 
the  imputation  cast  upon  him,  that  he  had  pleasure 
in  the  sinner's  death,  so,  in  this  second  part,  he 
declares  his  wish  that  they  should  turn  and  live. 
This  declaration  is  the  expression  of  a  thoroughly 
honest  desire  on  the  part  of  God.  It  is  not  the 
language  of  insincere  profession,  or  of  feigned 
earnestness.  There  is  nothing  here  of  exaggeration 
or  random  utterance.  Each  word  bears  the  impress 
of  ingenuous  truthfulness.  God  means  what  he  says 
when  he  affirms,  "  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of 
the  wicked,  but  rather  that  they  should  turn  and 
live."  It  is  to  life, — life  everlasting, — that  he  points 
your  eye,  sinner.  It  is  of  life  that  he  desires  to 
make  you  partaker.  And  surely  it  is  life  that  you 
need.  For  what  one  word  more  fully  or  more  terribly 
describes  your  present  state  than  death  ?  You  are 
dead!  Dead,  not  like  the  stone  or  the  rock;  that 
would  at  least  be  freedom  from  torment.  Dead, 
not  like  the  withered  leaf  or  the  uprooted  tree; 
that  would  at  least  be  unconsciousness  of  loss,  and 
ignorance  of  what  might  have  been  won.  But  you 
are  dead  to  all  that  is  worth  living  for,  and  yet 
alive  to  all  that  makes  life  a  burden  and  a  woe. 
Yours  is  a  death  whose  present  form  is  the  utter 
absence  of  everything  that  God  calls  peace  or  bless- 
edness, whose  future  form  is  the  undying  worm, 
the  weeping,  and  the  wailing,  and  the  gnashing  of 
teeth.  You  are  dead  to  that  which  you  were 
created  for,  as  well  as  to  him  who  created  you. 
You  live  in  pleasure  cm  the  earth,  yet  you  are 


324  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

dead!  You  smile,  and  sport,  and  dance,  and  revel, 
and  make  merry;  yet  you  are  dead!  For  the  life 
in  which  God  is  not ;  the  life  of  which  he  is  not 
the  spring  and  centre,  is  utter  death  !  And  that  is 
misery  to  you, — misery  now,  misery  in  the  long, 
long  ages  to  come  ! 

Ah  !  surely,  then,  it  is  life  that  you  need, — such 
a  life  as  will  fill  that  soul  of  yours  with  gladness, 
— such  a  life  as  shall  not  merely  shed  sunshine 
around  you,  but  shall  pour  its  joyous  freshness  into 
every  region  of  your  spirit,  and  fill  every  recess  of 
your  immortal  being  with  the  joy  unspeakable  and 
full  of  glory. 

It  is  such  a  life  that  God  desires  you  to  possess. 
It  was  to  bestow  upon  you  such  a  life  that  he  gave 
up  his  Son.  It  is  that  such  a  life  might  find 
entrance  into  you,  that  he  is  striving  with  you  by 
his  Spirit.  And  it  is  that,  without  another  hour's 
delay,  you  might  become  possessors  of  such  a  life, 
that  he  sends  to  you  once  more  this  message  of 
life, — so  unequivocal,  so  genuine,  so  pitiful. 

Do  you  say,  If  God  wants  me  to  live,  why  does 
he  not  at  once  give  me  life  ?  In  other  words,  why 
does  he  not  force  life  upon  my  acceptance,  and 
burst  through  every  barrier  ?  I  ask  in  return,  Is 
God  bound  to  take  your  way  in  giving  life  ?  I  ask 
again,  Do  you  really  suppose  that  a  person  is  not 
sincere  in  his  kindness,  because  he  does  not  carry 
out  that  kindness  by  every  means,  lawful  or 
unlawful  ?  Is  it  not  possible  that  there  may 
be  a  limit  to  that  kindness  compatible  with  the 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  325 

most  perfect  sincerity  ?  You  admit  that  God  does 
not  wish  you  to  be  ungodly ;  yet  you  are  ungodly ; 
might  you  not  as  well  say,  God  must  really  desire 
me  to  be  ungodly,  else  I  should  not  be  so  ?  Nay, 
you  admit  that  God  wishes  you  to  be  holy,  just  as 
he  wishes  all  his  creatures  to  be  holy.  Should  you 
think  of  saying,  God  does  not  desire  me  to  be  holy, 
else  he  would  make  me  holy;  God  must  have  plea- 
sure in  my  unholiness,  else  he  would  not  permit  me 
to  remain  in  it  Surely  this  would  be  false  reason- 
ing as  well  as  daring  profanity :  not  less  so  is  it 
when  you  argue,  God  cannot  really  desire  to  bless 
me,  else  he  would  bless  me ;  God  cannot  desire  me 
to  live,  else  he  would  give  me  life. 

There  may  be  difficulty  for  finite  man  to  reconcile 
the  two  things, — our  want  of  life  and  God's  desire 
that  we  should  possess  it ;  but  there  is  no  difficulty 
and  no  doubt  as  to  the  blessed  fact  itself.  God's 
desire  is,  that  we  should  turn  and  live  !  Not  all 
the  sophistry  of  unbelief,  nor  all  the  malignant 
falsehoods  of  the  evil  one,  can  shake  or  alter  this 
mighty,  this  most  glorious  truth.  God's  desire,  his 
undisguised  and  cordial  wish,  is,  that  the  wicked 
should  not  die,  but  live  !  He  has  spoken  it,  he 
has  repeated  it ;  he  has  sealed  it  with  his  own  most 
solemn  oath  ;  and  woe  be  to  the  sinner  who,  giving 
way  to  the  subtile  suggestions  of  his  own  jealous 
heart,  refuses  to  take  God  at  his  word,  hesitates  to 
give  him  credit  for  speaking  the  plain  truth  when 
he  lifts  up  his  hand  to  heaven  and  swears,  "  As  I 
live,  saith  the  Lord,   I   have  no  pleasure  in  the 


326  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

death  of  the  wicked  ;  but  rather  that  he  should 
turn  from  his  ways  and  live. 

The  expostulation,  with  which  all  this  closes,  is 
one  of  the  most  urgent  import  unit  y  on  the  part  of 
God,  proving  yet  more  fully  his  real  desire  to  bless. 
It  is  like  one  vehemently  enforcing  an  invitation 
upon  an  unwilling  listener, — making  a  last  effort  to 
save  the  heedless  or  resisting  sinner.  He  lifts  up 
his  voice,  he  stretches  out  his  hand,  he  exhorts,  he 
commands,  he  expostulates,  he  entreats,  "  Turn  ye, 
turn  ye,  from  your  evil  ways ;  for  why  will  ye  die  ?" 
must  not  he  who  thus  reasons  and  remonstrates 
with  the  sinner,  repeating  and  re-repeating  his 
entreaties,  enforcing  and  urging  home  his  message 
with  every  kind  of  loving  argument,  as  well  as 
with  every  form  of  solemn  appeal, — must  not  he 
be  truly  in  earnest  ?  Is  it  within  the  remotest 
bounds  of  possibility  or  conceivability  that  he  is 
insincere ;  that  he  does  not  really  mean  what  he 
says  ? 

The  ways  from  which  he  calls  on  them  to  turn 
are  named  by  him  "evil  ways;"  and  what  he 
calls  evil  must  be  truly  so, — hateful  in  his  eyes,  as 
well  as  ruinous  to  the  soul.  The  end  of  these  ways 
he  pronounces  to  be  death  ;  so  that  sinners  must 
either  turn  or  die.  It  is  the  broad  way  which  leadeth 
down  to  death  on  which  they  are  walking,  and  there 
is  no  hope  of  escaping  unless  they  retrace  their  steps. 
As  certainly  as  their  bodies  shall  return  to  dust,  so 
certainly  shall  their  souls  have  their  portion  in  the 
second  death,  and  their  dwelling-place  in  the  eter- 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  327 

nal  tomb  of  the  fiery  lake  ;  where,  instead  of  the 
worm  of  earth  preying  upon  their  lifeless  flesh,  there 
shall  be  the  worm  that  never  dies,  gnawing  their 
spirits,  and  making  them  feel  that  all  that  has 
hitherto  been  known  of  death  on  earth, — its  pangs, 
its  throes,  its  horrors,  its  separations, — has  been 
but  a  type  of  what  is  coming,  and  that  the  reality 
contained  in  that  word  death  had  never  before  been 
imagined, — nor,  indeed,  can  be, — till  the  Judge's 
sentence  has  cut  them  off  from  God  for  ever,  and 
flung  around  them  the  darkness  of  the  endless  mid- 
night ;  till  hell  has  closed  its  gate  upon  them,  and 
made  damnation  sure  ! 

But  then  there  is  another  way,  whose  end  is  life ; 
and  the  life,  which  forms  the  termination  of  the  one, 
is  as  certain  as  the  death  which  forms  the  termina- 
tion of  the  other.  It  is  on  this  way  that  God  so 
earnestly  desires  to  see  them  walking.  However 
wide  astray  they  have  gone,  and  however  near  the 
confines  of  the  second  death  they  may  have  come, 
he  beckons  them  back  with  his  gracious  hand,  and 
beseeches  them  with  his  most  loving  voice,  "  Come 
now,  and  let  us  reason  together."  Nay,  more,  he 
commands  them  to  turn.  It  is. not  mere  liberty 
to  retrace  your  steps  that  he  gives  you  ;  he  lays 
his  command  upon  you  ;  and  it  is  at  your  peril  if 
you  disobey.  aAm  I  at  liberty  to  come  to  God  T 
you  ask  perhaps.  At  liberty  to  come  !  Is  that  the 
way  you  put  it  ?  At  liberty  to  obey  his  direct 
command  !  Do  you  ask,  Am  I  at  liberty  to  keep 
the   Sabbath  ?      Am  I    at  liberty    to  honour  my 


328  THE  SINCERITY  OF 

father  and  mother  ?  Am  T  at  liberty  to  forbear 
swearing,  or  stealing,  or  coveting  ?  Who  asks  such 
questions  as  these  ?  And  shall  any  sinner  upon 
earth, — even  the  ungodliest  that  ever  forsook  God 
and  walked  in  his  lusts,  and  trampled  on  the  cross, 
and  quenched  the  Spirit, — shall  any  on  this  side  of 
the  second  death  presume  to  ask,  Am  I  at  liberty 
to  return  to  God  ?  At  liberty  !  You  dare  not  do 
otherwise.  There  is  all  the  obligation  that  a  com- 
mand can  give  ;  there  is  a  necessity  laid  upon  you, 
an  immediate  necessity,  a  necessity  from  which 
nothing  can  loose  you,  a  necessity  arising  out  of 
the  very  righteousness  of  that  God  who  is  com- 
manding you  to  quit  your  unrighteousness,  a  neces- 
sity springing  from  the  certain  doom  that  awaits 
you  if  you  turn  not.  Yes  ;  there  is  a  necessity, 
one  of  the  greatest  of  all  necessities,  laid  on  you  by 
God,  to  turn  and  live  ! 

God  expostulates  with  you,  and  asks,  Why  will 
ye  die  ?  Have  you  any  reason  to  give  for  preferring 
death,  or  for  supposing  that  you  must  just  die,  and 
that  you  cannot  help  it,  and  that  the  blame  is  not 
yours,  but  God's  ?  Must  you  die  ?  Must  you 
really  die  ?  Is  there  no  help  ?  There  was,  indeed, 
once  a  reason  for  your  dying,  a  reason  which  made 
dying  inevitable, — the  ancient  law  of  the  universe, 
"The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die."  But  now  the 
Son  of  God  has  come,  and  he  has  taken  up  that 
law,  and  has  so  fulfilled  and  honoured  it  by  dying 
himself,  that  the  same  inevitable  necessity  for  your 
dying  no  longer  exists.    It  was  once  only  righteous 


DIVINE  EXPOSTULATIONS.  329 

that  you  should  die  ;  now  it  is  as  righteous  that 
you  should  live.  Righteous  death  ; — that  was  once 
your  doom  ;  now  righteous  life  is  the  gift  which 
God  presents  to  you.  Life  upon  righteous  terms  ; 
life  in  a  way  that  honours  righteousness ;  life 
through  a  channel  as  holy  as  it  is  free  :  it  is  this 
that  is  now  announced  to  you,  and  it  is  in  reference 
to  this  that  God  asks,  Why  will  ye  die  ? 

Is  life  not  desirable  ?  Can  a  soul  be  in  love  with 
death  ?  Or  is  death  so  inevitable  that  it  is  vain  for 
you  to  flee  from  it  ?  Or  is  there  some  barrier  in 
your  way  ?  Or  is  God  not  really  willing  to  remove 
the  death,  and  to  bestow  the  life  ?  Are  these  the 
reasons  ?  Or  what  answer  do  you  mean  to  make 
to  God's  question,  so  urgently,  so  importunately 
put  and  pressed  home  on  you,  "Why  will  ye  die?" 


SEEMON  XXXIX. 

THE   SIN   AGAINST   THE   HOLY   GHOST. 

"  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  All  sins  shall  bo  forgiven  unto  the  sons  of  men, 
and  blasphemies  wherewith  soever  they  shall  blaspheme ;  but  he  that 
shall  blaspheme  against  the  Holy  Ghost  hath  never  forgiveness,  but  is  in 
danger  of  eternal  damnation :  because  they  said,  He  hath  an  unclean 
spirit."— Mark  iii.  28-30. 

It  would  serve  no  purpose  to  discuss  or  enume- 
rate the  various  opinions  that  have  been  held 
respecting  this  sin.  Let  us  just  take  the  passage 
itself,  and  try  to  find  out  what  the  narrative  really 
is  meant  to  teach  us. 

The  key  to  the  passage  is  contained  in  the  30th 
verse, — "Because  they  said"  (were  saying),  "He 
hath  an  unclean  spirit."  This  is  the  Evangelist's 
remark  for  the  clearing  up  of  the  statement  ;  or 
rather,  I  should  say,  it  is  the  Holy  Spirit's  own 
comment  on  a  declaration  made  specially  respecting 
himself.  In  the  28th  and  29th  verses,  the  Son  is 
speaking  of  the  Spirit,  and  of  the  sin  against  him  ; 
in  the  30th,  the  Spirit  interprets  the  words  of  the 
Son,  and  shews  that  the  sin  against  himself  is  in 
reality  a  sin  against  the  Son.  In  reading  these 
three  verses,  in  this  connection,  as  spoken  succes- 
sively by  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Spirit  of  God,  we 

see  how  jealous  the  one  is  for  the  honour  of  the 
330 


THE  SIN  AGAINST  THE  HOLY  GHOST.  331 

other.  The  Holy  Spirit  will  not  put  upon  record 
this  testimony  of  the  Son  regarding  himself  without 
adding  his  own  testimony  to  the  Son,  and  shewing 
how  sin  committed  against  himself  is  committed 
against  the  Son,  and  dishonour  cast  upon  himself 
is  dishonour  cast  upon  the  Son. 

It  was  in  Galilee  that  these  words  were  spoken ; 
for  Jesus  was,  at  this  time  "  going  through  every 
city  and  village  preaching,  and  shewing  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  kingdom  of  God"  (Luke  viii.  1).  He 
was  opposed,  reviled,  and  threatened,  as  he  went 
along,  teaching  and  healing.  The  opposition,  how- 
ever, did  not  come  from  the  Galileans,  but  from  the 
Scribes  and  Pharisees  who  came  down  from  Jeru- 
salem (Matt.  xii.  24,  Mark  iii.  22).  There  might 
be  among  the  inhabitants  of  that  half-  Gentile  region, 
ignorance  and  unbelief ;  but  they  did  not  go  so  far 
in  their  malignity  as  the  more  intellectual,  better 
educated,  and  (in  the  common  acceptation  of  the 
word)  more  "  religious '  citizens  of  Jerusalem,  as 
represented  by  their  leaders,  the  Scribes,  and  Pha- 
risees, and  Priests.  These,  though  better  read  in 
the  Prophets,  and  professing  to  be  waiting  for 
Messiah,  were  foremost  in  the  rejection  of  Christ ; 
setting  themselves  against  himself  and  his  Messiah- 
ship  with  a  persevering  and  desperate  malignity, 
such  as  we  might  have  reckoned  impossible. 

Not  only  did  these  Jewish  leaders  shew  their 
unbelief,  in  Jerusalem  and  Judea  ;  but  they  went 
everywhere,  tracking  the  Lord's  footsteps,  endea- 
vouring to  provoke  and  entrap  him  ;  misrepresent- 


332  THE  SIN  AGAINST 

ing  all  that  he  said  and  did  ;  maligning  him  as  a 
wine-bibber  and  a  keeper  of  the  worst  company  ; 
nay,  as  possessed  of  a  devil  ;  nay,  more,  as  doing 
and  saying  all  that  he  said  and  did  under  the  influ- 
ence of  this  possession.  In  the  present  narrative 
we  find  them  in  Galilee,  many  days'  journey  from 
Jerusalem.  What  were  they  doing  there  ?  They 
did  not  come  to  listen,  nor  to  be  taught,  nor  to  be 
convinced,  nor  to  admire.  They  had  travelled  all 
this  distance  out  of  pure  malignity.  Like  demons 
from  hell,  they  followed  the  Lord  in  order  to  assail 
him  or  plot  against  him.  They  grudged  no  toil, 
no  travel,  no  cost,  in  order  to  carry  out  their  hatred 
of  Christ.  Thev  watched,  with  hellish  eagerness, 
every  word  and  motion  ;  misconstruing  all  his 
doings  ;  abusing  him  both  for  what  he  did  and  for 
what  he  did  not  do  ;  and  seizing  every  opportunity 
for  poisoning  the  minds  of  the  people  against  him. 
In  the  scene  to  which  our  narrative  refers,  we 
find  him  working  a  miracle  ;  a  miracle  of  no  ordi- 
nary kind.  The  case  is  a  very  desperate  one.  The 
man  is  both  dumb  and  blind, — perhaps  deaf  too  ; 
and  more  than  this,  he  is  possessed  with  a  devil. 
He  is  a  signal  monument  of  Satan's  power.  He  is 
one  of  Satan's  best  fortified  and  best  garrisoned 
fortresses.  There  could  hardly  be  a  clearer  or  more 
explicit  exhibition  of  Satan's  infernal  enmity  to  man, 
and  of  his  horrid  character  as  the  marrer  of  God's 
workmanship,  the  inflicter  of  darkness  and  disease. 
Seldom  had  the  seed  of  the  serpent  been  so  exhibited 
in  his  hatefulness  and  enmity  ;  and  seldom  had  he 


THE  HOLY  GHOST.  333 

been  so  directly  and  gloriously  confronted  with  the 
woman's  Seed,  in  all  his  loveableness  of  character 
and  his  kindness  to  man.  If  ever,  therefore.,  human 
unbelief  were  utterly  inexcusable,  it  was  here.  If 
ever  man's  enmity  might  have  been  expected  to 
give  way,  it  was  here.  If  ever,  in  the  awful  halt- 
ing between  two  opinions,  a  better  choice  might 
have  been  forced  upon  man,  and  even  the  Pharisee 
made  ashamed  of  siding  against  Christ,  it  was  here. 
God  had  brought  heaven  and  hell  face  to  face, 
before  man  ;  he  had  brought  the  Prince  of  light 
and  the  prince  of  darkness  into  close  and  direct 
collision  ;  and  that  in  circumstances  most  likely  to 
enlist  man's  sympathies  with  heaven  against  hell, 
with  the  Son  of  God  against  the  devil  and  his 
angels.  It  might  have  been  expected  that  man 
would,  at  least  for  once,  have  taken  the  side  of 
God  ;  and  that  the  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  most 
enlightened  and  best  educated  of  the  land,  would 
have  given  way  in  their  prejudice  and  hatred.  But 
it  is  just  here  that  the  greatness  of  their  hostility 
comes  out  ;  and  as  afterwards  the  cry  arose  in 
Jerusalem,  "  Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas,"  so  here, 
in  Galilee,  a  like  cry  is  heard,  from  the  lips  of  the 
same  men,  "Not  the  Holy  Spirit,  but  the  devil  !" 
Thus  it  was  that  these  Scribes  and  Pharisees 
sinned  against  the  Holy  Spirit,  by  imputing  to  the 
devil  the  works  of  Christ,  which  he  did  by  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  him.  They  did  not  do 
this  in  ignorance ;  for  they  were  not  half-enlight- 
ened Galileans,  but  men  well-read  in  their  Scrip- 


334  THE  SIN  AGAINST 

tures ;  they  did  it  knowingly.  They  did  not  do  it 
hastily,  and  under  the  influence  of  passing  excite- 
ment ;  they  did  it  deliberately,  and  resolutely,  and 
continuously.  They  did  it  with  their  eyes  open ; 
they  did  it  maliciously,  in  the  desperate  hatred  of 
their  hearts.  They  did  it  without  one  extenuating 
circumstance, — without  anything  either  to  excuse 
or  to  account  for  their  malignity.  This  is  the  sin 
which  our  Lord  here  declares  to  be  unpardonable. 
To  have  said  that  this  marvellous  universe  was 
created  by  the  devil,  and  not  by  God,  would  have 
been  a  kindred  crime ;  a  sin  of  awful  daring.  To 
have  said  that  the  miracles  of  Egypt,  the  dividing 
of  the  Red  Sea,  the  manna,  the  water,  the  healing 
of  the  serpents'  deadly  bite,  the  drying  up  of 
Jordan,  the  overthrow  of  Jericho,  the  arrest  of  sun 
and  moon  in  Gibeon,  were  all  the  work  of  the  devil, 
would  have  been  sins  like  in  kind  to  this  of  the 
Pharisees  ;  but  not,  by  many  degrees,  equal  to  it 
in  dark  malignity.  For,  in  this  miracle  of  Christ, 
thus  misinterpreted,  we  have  more  of  divine  love 
and  power, — more  of  God  himself,  than  in  all  these 
other  miracles  together.  One  of  the  fullest  and 
brightest  manifestations  of  God's  character,  as  our 
loving,  healing,  pardoning,  redeeming  God,  is  in 
this  miracle ;  and  hence  the  peculiarly  aggravated 
guilt  of  those  who  reviled  it  as  the  work  of  the 
devil.  It  was  a  work  done  by  the  special  power  of 
the  Holy  Ghost, — a  work  in  which  might  have 
been  clearly  read  the  Father's  love  and  power,  the 
Son's  love  and  power,  the  Spirit's  love  and  power. 


THE  HOLY  GHOST.  335 

Yet  this  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  this  miracle  of 
Godhead's  love  and  power,  is  ascribed  to  Satan  !  It 
was  calling  God  the  devil,  and  the  devil  God;  it 
was  calling  hell  heaven,  and  heaven  hell.  It  was 
not  mere  rejection  of  Christ;  it  was  not  mere  dis- 
belief of  his  miracles ;  it  was  not  mere  refusal  of 
the  divine  testimony  to  his  Messiahship.  It  was 
something  beyond  all  these  phases  of  unbelief.  It 
was  the  substitution  and  preference  of  the  evil  for 
the  good,  of  the  darkness  for  the  light,  of  the  seed 
of  the  serpent  for  the  Seed  of  the  woman.  Nay, 
more,  it  was  the  deliberate  declaration,  not  that 
the  works  of  God  the  Holy  Ghost  were  unreal  and 
untrue, — but  that  they  were  not  his  works  at  all, 
but  those  of  the  devil.  It  was  the  admission  of 
their  reality,  but  the  ascription  of  them  to  the  devil. 
It  was  carrying  out  hatred  of  Christ  to  such  an 
extreme,  as  to  be  willing  to  acknowledge  Satan  as 
the  worker  of  miracles  rather  than  Christ ;  nay,  it 
was  so  hating  the  Holy  Spirit,  because  of  his  thus 
witnessing  for  Christ,  as  to  call  him  ci  an  unclean 
spirit,"  Beelzebub,  the  prince  of  the  devils  ! 

Such  is  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost;  a  sin 
which  originates  in  very  peculiar  circumstances  ; 
which  can  only  be  committed  by  those  who  sin 
wilfully,  daringly,  and  maliciously;  and  which, 
in  all  probability,  could  only  be  committed  when 
the  Lord  was  upon  the  earth,  working  miracles 
by  the  power  of  the  Spirit. 

It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  our  Lord  does  not 
affirm  that  even  these  blasphemous  Pharisees  had 


336  THE  SIN  AGAINST 

actually  committed  the  sin.  The  awful  words  re- 
garding the  sin  that  has  no  pardon  are  spoken  as 
words  of  warning  In  them  the  Lord  is  pointing 
to  the  horrible  gulf  which  these  Pharisees  were 
approaching,  and  warning  them  oft.  He  sees  them 
like  a  vessel  drawing  nearer  some  raging  whirlpool, 
and  he  speaks  that  they  may  be  alarmed  and  turn 
back.  In  this  there  is  a  blessed  mixture  of  grace 
and  righteousness.  He  would  warn  even  the  Pha- 
risees !  He  would  sound  the  alarm  even  to  those 
who  were  on  the  very  point  of  plunging  into  hell ! 
The  sin  is  thus  a  peculiar  sin.  It  is  not  the 
same  as  rejection  of  Christ  and  final  unbelief.  It 
is  not  even  blasphemy  against  Christ  and  his  work. 
It  is  not  simply  sin  against  light  and  knowledge. 
It  is  not  repeated,  or  prolonged,  or  outrageous  back- 
sliding. It  is  something  special ;  something  open 
and  before  others ;  it  is  something  deliberate  and 
malicious ;  it  is  something  which  would  render  the 
man's  state  quite  hopeless,  and  seal  his  doom  at 
once.  It  is  something  connected  directly  with  the 
Spirit,  and  which  involves  daring  blasphemy  against 
him  and  his  doings.  It  must,  then,  be  a  greater 
sin  than  that  of  Judas,  for  his  sin  was  pardonable 
to  the  last.  It  must  be  a  greater  sin  than  scourg- 
ing, buffeting,  reviling,  crucifying  the  Lord  of 
glory.  Oh,  how  unutterably  hateful  must  that  sin 
be,  of  which  we  thus  read,  "  Wherefore  I  say  unto 
you,  All  manner  of  sin  and  blasphemy  shall  be  for- 
given unto  men ;  but  the  blasphemy  against  the 
Holy  Ghost   shall  never  be  forgiven  him.     And 


THE  HOLY  GHOST.  337 

whosoever  speaketh  a  word  against  the  Son  of  Man, 
it  shall  be  forgiven  him ;  but  whosoever  speaketh 
against  the  Holy  Ghost,  it  shall  never  be  forgiven 
him,  neither  in  this  world,  neither  in  the  world  to 
come.  He  that  shall  blaspheme  against  the  Holy 
Ghost  hath  never  forgiveness,  but  is  in  danger  of 
eternal  damnation ;  because  they  said,  He  hath  an 

UNCLEAN  SPIRIT  !" 

But,  while  this  sin  is  a  very  peculiar  one,  and, 
possibly,  only  committed  when  our  Lord  was  here, 
and  that  by  those  who  ascribed  to  the  devil  the 
miracles  which  Christ  did,  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  there 
are  approximations  to  it,  in  all  ages,  of  which  men 
need  to  be  warned.  The  way  in  which  many  attack 
Revivals,  and  revile  those  engaged  in  them,  and 
ascribe  the  conversions  to  mere  excitement,  or 
hypocrisy,  or  love  of  show,  or  to  Satan  himself,  is  a 
perilous  approach  to  the  blasphemy  against  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Let  men  beware  how  they  speak  of 
these  religious  awakenings.  If  you  dislike  them, 
or  see  no  evidence  for  their  genuineness,  at  least 
let  them  alone.  Especially  let  those  who,  in  their 
zeal  for  ecclesiastical  order,  have  set  themselves 
against  such  movements,  and  do  not  hesitate  to 
throw  out  insinuations  as  to  all  these  being  the 
devil's  work,  beware  lest  they  be  found  fighting 
against  God,  and  reviling  the  Spirit  of  God.  They 
may  be  nearer  the  sin  of  the  Pharisees  than  they 
are  willing  to  think ;  and  their  zeal  for  sound  words, 
in  which  they  pride  themselves,  only  helps  to 
identifv  them  the  more  with  these  haters  of  the 

Y 


338  THE  SIN  AGAINST 

Lord.  The  dislike  of  sudden  conversions  looks 
very  like  a  denial  of  the  Spirit's  work  ;  just  as  the 
dislike  of  assurance  looks  like  a  questioning  of  the 
work  of  Christ, — a  denial  of  its  sufficiency  to  give 
immediate  peace  to  the  awakened  conscience.  Let 
the  ungodlv  beware  of  scoffing  at  revivals ;  and  let 
professing  Christians  beware  of  standing  aloof  from 
them,  as  if  they  were  fanaticism,  or  excitement,  or 
the  work  of  Satan. 

Let  us  gather,  in  closing,  such  lessons  as  these  : — 

I.  Honour  the  Holy  Spirit  and  his  work. — As  the 
the  third  person  of  the  Godhead,  equal  with  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  he  is  to  be  worshipped.  Never 
let  us  overlook  the  Spirit,  or  undervalue  either  his 
power  or  his  love.  Nor  let  us  lose  sight  of  his 
great  work  in  the  Church  and  in  individual  souls. 
Without  his  almighty  hand  there  is  no  conversion, 
no  faith,  no  repentance,  no  light.  Let  those  who 
deny  his  work,  or  explain  it  as  a  mere  influence,  or 
affirm  that  it  is  nothing  but  the  effect  of  the  word 
upon  us,  consider  how  much  they  are  dishonouring 
the  Spirit,  and  how  near  they  may  be  approaching 
to  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

II.  Prize  him  as  the  gift  of  the  glorified  Christ. — 
He  is  the  promise  of  the  Father;  he  is  the  gift  of 
the  Son ;  and  in  him  are  wrapped  all  other  gifts  for 
sinners.  He  is  in  the  hand  of  Christ  for  us,  let  us 
go  to  Christ  for  him ;  for  he  is  exalted  a  Prince 
and  a  Saviour  to  give  repentance  and  forgiveness, 


THE  HOLY  GHOST.  339 

through  the  shedding  down  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
upon  us.  We  need  not  fear  a  refusal  from  such  a 
Saviour. 

III.  Beware  of  grieving  and  quenching  him. — 
Israel's  great  sin  was  their  "resisting  the  Holy 
Ghost"  (Acts  vii.  51).  "  They  rebelled  and  vexed 
his  Holy  Spirit"  (Isa.  lxiii.  10).  Let  us  beware  of 
Israel's  sin.  0  grieve  not  the  Spirit,  by  your  un- 
belief and  hardness  of  heart !  He  will  not  always 
strive. 

IV.  Receive  that  Christ  of  tohom  he  testifies. — His 
office  is  to  glorify  Christ ;  to  show  Christ.  He  is 
willing  to  do  this  for  sinners.  He  wants  to  show 
you  your  need  of  Christ.  He  wants  to  show  you 
Christ's  sufficiency.  He  wants  to  give  you  true 
and  high  thoughts  of  Christ.     Oh,  turn  not  away ! 

V.  Be  not  scoffers. — God's  words  are  very  awful 
ones — "Be  ye  not  mockers,  lest  your  bands  be 
made  strong."  Do  not  ridicule  religion ;  nor  speak 
evil  of  Christians  ;  nor  circulate  reports  against 
the  work  of  God ;  nor  deny  "  sudden  conversions." 
Beware  of  everything  like  irreverence,  or  levity, 
or  flippancy,  in  speaking  of  the  things  of  God  or 
the  transactions  of  eternity.  Judge  nothing  before 
the  time  ;  or  if  you  will  judge,  see  that  in  your 
judgment  you  honour  the  Spirit  of  truth  and 
holiness. 


SERMON   XL. 

THE   SIN   UNTO    DEATH. 

"  If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin  a  sin  which  is  not  unto  death,  he 
shall  ask,  and  he  shall  give  him  life  for  them  that  sin  not  unto  death. 
There  is  a  sin  unto  death  :  I  do  not  say  that  he  shall  pray  for  it.  All 
unrighteousness  is  sin  :  and  there  is  a  sin  not  unto  death." — 1  John  v. 
16,  17. 

The  sin  mentioned  here  is  not  the  same  as  the 
"  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost."  The  persons  spoken 
of,  as  respectively  guilty,  are  very  different  from 
each  other.  In  the  latter  sin,  it  is  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  the  malignant  enemies  of  Christ,  that 
are  the  criminals  ;  in  the  former,  that  is,  the  case 
before  us,  it  is  a  Christian  brother  that  is  the  offender : 
"  If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin."  We  must  beware 
of  confounding  the  two  sins  and  the  two  parties. 
The  sin  unto  death  is  spoken  of  as  that  which  a 
believer  could  commit ;  but  no  believer  could  pos- 
sibly be  guilty  of  the  blasphemy  against  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

This  clears  the  way  so  far,  or  at  least  it  narrows 
the  ground,  and  so  facilitates  our  inquiry. 

But  while  removing  one  difficulty,  does  it  not 
introduce  another  ?  Does  it  not  assume  the  possi- 
bility of  falling  from  grace,  and  deny  the  "  perse- 
verance of  the  saints  ?"  We  think  not.  But,  as 
340 


THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH.  341 

much  depends  on  the  meaning  of  the  expression, 
"  a  sin  unto  death/'  we  must  first  take  up  this. 

Death  may  mean  either  temporal  or  eternal 
death  ;  either  the  death  of  the  soul,  or  that  of  the 
body.  In  the  passage  before  us,  it  seems  to  me  to 
mean  the  latter.  The  sin  unto  death,  would  mean 
a  sin  involving  temporal  death  ;  such  a  sin  as  God 
would  chastise  with  disease  and  death,  though  he 
would  not  exclude  the  doer  of  it  from  his  kingdom. 
The  difference  between  these  two  kinds  of  sins  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  case  of  Israel  in  the  desert. 
The  generation  that  came  out  of  Egypt  died  in  the 
wilderness,  because  of  their  murmurings  ;  yet  many 
of  these  were  believing  men  and  women,  who, 
though  thus  chastised,  by  the  infliction  of  temporal 
death,  and  deprivation  of  the  earthly  Canaan,  were 
not  delivered  over  to  eternal  death.  Moses  him- 
self (we  might  add,  Aaron  and  Miriam)  is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  same  thing.  In  him  we  see  a  believ- 
ing man  suffering  temporal  death  for  his  sin,  yet 
still  a  child  of  God,  and  an  heir  of  the  heavenly 
Canaan. 

But  have  we  any  cases  of  this  kind  in  the  New 
Testament  ?  If  we  have,  they  will  tend  greatly  to 
confirm  our  interpretation  of  the  passage  before  us, 
and  shew  that,  in  all  ages,  God's  way  of  dealing 
with  his  saints  has  been  the  same  ;  and  that,  while 
in  some  instances  there  was  chastisement,  in  the 
shape  of  pain,  or  disease,  or  loss  of  property,  or  loss 
of  friends,  in  others  there  was  chastisement  in  the 
shape  of  death.     In  the  case  of  Moses,  we  have 


342  THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH. 

this  paternal  chastisement,  involving  death  ;  in  the 
case  of  Job,  we  see  it  involving  loss  of  substance, 
loss  of  family,  loss  of  health,  but  stopping  short  of 
death  ;  but  in  the  New  Testament,  we  shall  see  it 
in  the  infliction  of  death  upon  the  saint. 

The  most  remarkable  instance  of  the  kind  is  in 
the  Corinthian  church.  That  church  was  in  many 
respects  noble  and  Christ-like,  "  coming  behind  in 
no  gift."  Yet  there  was  much  sin  in  it,  and  many 
of  its  members  were  not  walking  "as  becometh 
saints."  Spec:  .  ly  in  reference  to  the  Lord's  Supper, 
there  was  grievous  sin,  as  the  latter  part  of  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  First  Epistle  to  that  church 
intimates.  God  could  not  suffer  such  sin  in  his 
saints.  They  are  not  indeed  to  be  cast  away,  nor 
condemned  with  the  unbelieving  world  ;  but  the}* 
are  not  to  be  permitted  to  go  on  in  evil,  unrebukecl. 
Accordingly,  God  interposes.  He  sends  disease  on 
some  of  these  transgressing  members,  and  death  on 
others.  "  For  this  cause,"  says  the  apostle,  "many 
are  weak  and  sickly  among  you,  and  ruanj'  sleep ' 
(1  Cor.  xi.  30).  Weakness,  sickliness,  and  death, 
were  the  three  forms  of  chastisement  with  which 
the  Corinthian  church  was  visited.  Some  were 
sinning  sins  which  require  to  be  visited  with  weak- 
ness ;  others  were  sinning  sins  which  required  to 
be  punished  with  sickness  ;  while  others  were  sin- 
ning sins  which  needed  to  be  chastised  with  "death ;" 
for  this  the  word  "  sleep  "  evidently  means  (1  Cor. 
vii.  39,  xo#im}&j, — xv.  18).  Against  these  sins  unto 
disease,  these  "  sins  unto  death,"  the  apostle  warns 


THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH.  343 

these  Corinthians,  when  he  says,  "  If  we  would 
judge  ourselves,  we  should  not  be  judged  ;"  that  is, 
we  might  have  been  spared  these  chastisements. 
If  we  had  judged  ourselves,  and  condemned  our  own 
sin,  we  should  not  have  been  thus  judged  by  God. 
And  then  he  adds,  that  even  this  judgment  was  in 
love,  not  in  wrath  :  "When  we  are  thus  judged,  it 
is  the  Lord  chastising  us,  in  order  that  we  may  not 
be  condemned  with  the  world." 

We  find  the  same  solemn  truth  in  the  Epistle  of 
James  (v.  14,  15)  :  "The  prayer  of  faith  shall  save 
the  sick,  and  the  Lord  shall  raise  him  up  ;  and  if 
he  have  committed  sins,  thev  shall  be  forgiven 
him."  Here  sickness  is  spoken  of  as  the  conse- 
quence of  sin, — sin  in  a  saint.  The  sick  and  sin- 
ning one  is  to  be  prayed  for  ;  and  if  his  sin  and 
sickness  be  not  unto  death,  God  will  have  mercy 
on  him.  The  sin  shall  be  forgiven,  and  the  sick- 
ness taken  away. 

We  find  the  same  truth  in  1  Cor.  viii.  11, 
"  Through  thy  knowledge  shall  the  weak  brother 
perish,  for  whom  Christ  died"  where  the  " perish- 
ing "  is  the  infliction  of  temporal  death. 

These  passages  shew  the  true  meaning  of  our 
text.  The  sin  unto  death  is  a  sin  such  as  God 
chastises  by  the  infliction  of  disease  and  death. 

What  this  sin  is,  we  do  noi  know.  It  was  not 
the  same  sin  in  all,  but  different  in  each.  In  the 
case  of  the  Corinthian  Church,  unworthy  commu- 
nicating was  "the  sin  unto  death  ;"  but  what  it 
was  in  others,  is  not  recorded. 


:\l 


14  THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH. 


Thus  the  passage  in  John  and  that  in  James  cor- 
respond strikingly,  the  one  illustrating  the  other. 
In  the  case  of  the  sick  brother,  spoken  of  by  James, 
we  have  the  very  thing  referred  to  in  the  first  clause 
of  our  text  :  "  If  any  man  see  his  brother  sin  a  sin 
which  is  not  unto  death,  he  shall  ask,  and  he  (£  e.3 
God)  shall  give  him  life  for  them  that  sin  not  unto 
death."  Thus  the  prayer  of  faith  was  to  save  the 
sick  man  from  death,  to  raise  him  up,  and  to  secure 
for  him  forgiveness  of  the  sin  which  had  produced 
the  sickness. 

But  then  the  question  would  arise,  How  are  we 
to  know  when  a  sin  is  unto  death,  and  when  it  is 
not  unto  death,  so  that  we  may  pray  in  faith  ?  The 
last  clause  of  the  16th  verse  answers  this  question. 
It  admits  that  there  is  a  sin  unto  death  ;  which 
admission  is  thus  put  in  the  17th  verse  :  "All  un- 
righteousness is  sin  ;  but  all  sin  is  not  unto  death." 
But  what  does  the  apostle  mean  by  saying,  in  the 
end  of  the  16th  verse,  "  I  do  not  say  that  he  shall 
pray  for  it  ?"  If  we  cannot  know  when  a  sin  is 
unto  death,  and  when  not,  what  is  the  use  of  say- 
ing, "  I  do  not  say  that  he  shall  pray  for  it  ? ' 

The  word  translated  "pray"  means  also  "in- 
quire," and  is  elsewhere  translated  so  :  John  i.  19, 
"  The  Jews  sent  priests  and  Levites  from  Jerusalem 
to  ask  him,  Who  art  thou  ?"  (See,  also,  John  i. 
21,  25,  v.  12,  ix.  2,  xix.  21.)  If  thus  rendered, 
the  meaning  would  be,  "  I  say  he  is  to  ask  no 
questions  about  that."  That  is  to  say,  if  he  sees 
a  brother  sick  and  ready  to  die,  he  is  not  to  say. 


THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH.  345 

Has  he  committed  a  sin  unto  death,  or  has  he  not? 
He  is  just  to  pray,  letting  alono  all  such  inquiries, 
and  leaving  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  God,  who, 
in  answer  to  prayer,  will  raise  him  up,  if  he  have 
not  committed  the  sin  unto  death. 

The  passage  now  becomes  plain  ;  and  while  it 
remains  as  an  unspeakably  solemn  warning,  it  does 
not  teach  us  that  there  is  some  one  mysterious  sin 
which  infers  eternal  damnation  ;  still  less,  that  a 
saint  of  God  can  commit  such  a  sin.  It  may  be 
thus  paraphrased  :  "  If  any  one  see  his  brother  in 
Christ  sin  a  sin,  and  see  him  also  laid  upon  a  sick- 
bed in  consequence  of  this,  he  shall  pray  for  the 
sick  brother  ;  and  if  his  sin  be  one  of  which  the 
punishment  is  disease,  not  death,  the  sick  man 
shall  be  raised  up ;  for  all  sins  that  lead  to  sickness 
do  not  necessarily  lead  to  death.  And  as  to  the 
difficult v,  How  shall  we  know  when  the  sin  is  one 
which  merely  infers  sickness,  and  when  it  is  one 
which  infers  death  ?  I  say  this,  Ask  no  questions 
on  this  point,  but  pray,  and  leave  the  case  to  God." 

Let  us  now  come  to  the  lessons  of  our  text. 

1.  Dorit  puzzle  yourself  with  hard  questions  about 
the  particular  kind  of  sins  committed. — Be  satisfied 
that  it  is  sin,  and  deal  with  it  as  such.  There  are 
sins  unto  death,  and  there  are  sins  not  unto  death. 
Do  not  trouble  yourself  or  others  with  questions  on 
this  point,  which  no  man  can  answer.  Remember 
that  all  unrighteousness  is  sin ;  and  that  it  is  simply 
with  sin,  as  sin,  as  a  breach  of  the  perfect  law  of 
righteousness,  that  you  have  to  do.     It  is  not  the 


346  THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH. 

nature  or  the  measure  of  its  punishment  that  you 
have  to  consider,  but  its  own  exceeding  sinfulness. 

2.  Be  concerned  about  a  brothers  welfare. — "  Look 
not  every  man  ( n  his  own  things,  but  look  also 
every  man  on  the  things  of  others,"  as  said  the 
apostle.  If  any  of  you  see  a  brother  sin,  do  not  let 
him  alone,  as  if  it  did  not  concern  you.  Do  not 
say,  "Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?'  Desire  the 
spiritual  prosperity  of  all  the  saints.  Seek,  too, 
the  salvation  of  the  unsaved.  They  need  your 
pity  and  your  effort.     Leave  them  not. 

3.  Dont  trifle  ivith  sin. — Count  no  sin  trivial, 
either  in  yourself  or  another.  Do  not  dally  with 
temptation.  Do  not  extenuate  guilt.  Do  not  say, 
May  I  not  keep  my  beloved  sin  a  little  longer  ? 
Part  with  it,  or  it  will  cost  you  dear.  In  what  way 
it  may  do  so  I  know  not  ;  but  I  can  say  this,  that 
sooner  or  later  it  will  cost  you  dear,  both  in  soul 
and  body. 

4.  Take  it  at  once  to  God. — Don't  puzzle  yourself 
with  useless  questions  as  to  its  nature,  but  take  it 
straight  to  God.  In  the  case  of  a  brother,  do  not 
raise  evil  reports  against  him  because  of  it,  but  go 
and  tell  God  about  it.  In  your  own  case  do  the 
same.  Do  not  let  it  remain  unconfessed  a  moment 
after  it  is  discovered.  It  is  unrighteousness  ;  it  is 
sin  ;  it  is  breach  of  law.  God  hates  it  ;  you  must 
hate  it  too.  You  must  bring  it  to  that  God  who 
hates  it ;  and  who,  just  because  he  hates  it,  wants 
you  to  bring  it  to  him.  Give  it  at  once  to  him. 
He  knows  how  to  keep  it,  and  to  deal  with  it.     If 


THE  SIN  UNTO  DEATH.  347 

you  keep  it  to  yourself,  it  will  be  }*our  ruin.  It 
will  be  poison  in  your  veins.  It  will  eat  as  doth  a 
canker.  It  is  not  too  great  for  him  to  deal  with  or 
to  cover.  The  blood  of  his  only-begotten  Son  will 
cover  it.  Let  that  blood  prove  its  divine  efficacy 
by  the  cleansing  which  it  can  administer  to  your 
soul.  Rest  not  without  forgiveness  through  the  great 
propitiation.  An  unforgiven  man  is  an  unhappy 
man.  Blessedness  is  the  portion  only  of  the  for- 
given. If  you  have  not  yet  found  the  pardon,  this 
blessedness  cannot  be  yours.  And  if  you  but  felt  the 
misery  of  the  unpardoned,  and  the  joy  of  the  par- 
doned, you  would  not  rest  till  you  had  made  sure  of 
the  forgiveness  that  there  is  with  God,  and  tasted 
the  reconciliation  that  they  only  know,  who  have 
settled  the  great  question  for  eternity,  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  the  second  death. 
And  who  shall  deliver  the  doomed  one  from  it  ? 
Who  shall  pray  him  up  out  of  hell  ?  The  second 
death  !  Ah,  when  it  has  come  to  that,  all  is  over  ! 
No  Christ  will  do  then  ;  no  blood  ;  no  cross  !  Oh, 
wait  not  till  your  sins  have  landed  you  in  that  ! 
Take  the  proffered  pardon.  God  gives  it  to  you 
in  his  Son.  Take  it,  and  live  for  ever.  He  who 
died  and  lives  presents  to  you  the  gift  of  the  ever- 
lasting life, — life  that  no  second  death  can  touch, — 
life  in  Himself,— life  beyond  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  in  the  city  of  the  Living  One, 
from  which  no  life  departs,  and  into  which  no 
death  can  enter. 


SERMON   XLI. 


THE   THREE    WITNESSES. 

) 


"  Who  is  he  that  overcometh  the  world,  but  he  that  believeth  that 
Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God?  This  is  he  that  came  by  water  and  blood,  even 
Jesus  Christ;  not  by  water  only,  but  by  water  and  blood.  And  it  is  the 
Spirit  that  beareth  witness,  because  the  Spirit  is  truth." — 1  John  v.  5,  6. 

The  world  is  not  for  us  but  against  us.  It  lieth  in 
wickedness,  and  must  be  our  enemy.  It  is  Satan's 
kingdom,  and  can  afford  us  neither  home  nor  friendly 
shelter.  It  was  Christ's  foe,  and  it  is  ours  no  less ; 
seeking  our  ruin  both  by  force  and  craft.  It  has 
always  hated  the  Church ;  it  does  so  still.  It  hated 
the  Master,  and  it  hates  the  servant  too.  The  seed 
of  the  serpent  and  the  seed  of  the  woman  must 
be  at  variance  with  each  other. 

It  is  to  be  fought  against;  not  yielded  to.  There 
can  only  be  warfare  between  it  and  us;  not  friend- 
ship, not  peace,  not  truce,  not  alliance,  not  com- 
promise. In  this  warfare,  it  is  faith  only  that  can 
give  us  the  victory, — faith  which  shews  us  the 
shadowy  vanity  of  things  seen  and  temporal,  and 
the  abiding  glory  of  things  unseen  and  eternal. 
The  BELIEVING  man  is  the  only  conqueror.  It  is  as 
a  believing  man  that  he  fights  and  overcomes. 
Mere  earnestness  will  not  do ;  nothing  but  faith. 

In  what,  then,  or  in  whom  is  it,  that  he  believes  ? 
3  IS 


THE  THREE  WITNESSES.  349 

In  Jesus  as  the  Son  of  God.  It  is  not  faith  in 
ideas,  or  principles,  or  opinions,  or  doctrines,  that 
gives  the  victory.  It  is  faith  in  Christ  Jesus,  the 
Son  of  the  living  God. 

But  what  does  this  imply  ?  And  who  is  this 
Son  of  God  ?  And  how  do  we  know  that  Jesus  is 
the  Son  of  God  ?  To  this  the  apostle  answers,  He 
"came  by  water  and  by  blood;"  that  is,  he  was 
marked  out  by  these  two  things; — and  so  proved 
to  be  "  the  coming  one,"  the  Messiah,  the  Son  of 
God.  These  shewed  him  to  be  the  Christ,  and 
sealed  him  as  such.  Both  of  these  things  were 
needed,  and  both  were  given ;  the  one  at  his  bap- 
tism, the  other  at  his  crucifixion. 

The  Christ,  revealed  to  Adam,  was  one  who  was 
to  be  truly  the  Son  of  man  and  the  Son  of  God ; 
who,  as  the  seed  of  the  woman,  was  to  be  bruised 
in  his  heel,  when  consummating  his  victory  over  the 
serpent.  The  Christ  revealed  to  the  patriarchs  and 
prophets  was  the  same.  The  Christ  of  type  and 
sacrifice  was  the  same.  The  Christ  of  the  prophets 
was  still  the  same.  He  was  such  a  Christ  as  could 
have  a  twofold  testimonv  borne  to  him;  a  testi- 
mony  by  water  and  a  testimony  by  blood  ;  so  that, 
had  either  of  these  been  awanting  when  he  came, 
the  evidence  of  his  being  the  very  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God,  would  have  been  incomplete.  To  these 
two  God  adds  a  third  witness,  confirming  the  testi- 
mony  of  the  previous  two, — the  Holy  Spirit.  He 
also  comes  in  as  a  witness-bearer,  uniting  his  testi- 
mony  to  the  others,   and  proclaiming  the  same 


350  THE  THREE  WITNESSES. 

truth, — giving  his  evidence  to  the  same  facts.  So 
that  thus  we  have  a  threefold  testimony  on  earth, 
a  testimony  directed  to  one  great  point, — that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  the  Saviour  of 
the  world.  Two  witnesses  under  the  law  were 
sufficient  to  attest  a  matter;  and  God  gives  two 
witnesses,  who  are  both  most  explicit  in  their  tes- 
timony ;  but  to  make  assurance  yet  surer,  he  adds 
a  third,  the  Holy  Spirit.  And  thus  there  are  three 
that  bear  witness  upon  earth,  the  Spirit,  the  water, 
and  the  blood ;  and  these  three  agree  in  one ;  or, 
literally;  "are  towards  this  one  tiling,"  or,  are 
directed  to,  or  converge  in  this  one  point,  viz.,  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God. 

This,  then,  is  the  way  in  which  God  lays  the 
foundation  for  faith  to  rest  upon.  He  not  only 
sends  his  Son,  but  he  accompanies  his  mission  with 
convincing  evidence  as  to  who  and  what  he  is.  He 
places  a  basis  for  faith,  so  sure  and  satisfactory, 
that  a  man,  understanding  it,  can  at  once  say, 
"  Now  I  know  of  a  truth  that  this  is  the  Christ, 
the  Seed  of  the  woman,  the  Seed  of  Abraham,  the 
Seed  of  David,  the  Son  of  Mary,  the  Son  of  God." 
It  is  in  this  way  that  God  produces  faith  in  us ;  not 
by  calling  on  us  to  put  forth  some  vast  effort  to 
accomplish  an  act  which  we  call  faith ;"  but  by 
turning  our  eyes  to  the  Person  of  the  Messiah,  and 
opening  them  to  see  it,  and  to  see,  at  the  same  time, 
the  evidence  for  Jesus  of  Nazareth  being  the  Christ, 
the  Son  of  the  living  God.  You  who  complain  of 
weak  faith  or  no  faith,  and  who  are  all  the  dav 


THE  THREE  WITNESSES.  351 

crying,  "  Help  my  unbelief/'  yet  turning  your  eye 
away  from  the  object  of  faith,  look  here ;  look  at 
God's  testimony  to  his  Sou.  Mark  the  divine  evi- 
dence given,  the  threefold  proof  that  Jesus  is  the 
Christ.  Faith  'cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by 
the  word  of  God. 

Let  us  look  at  this  threefold  evidence. 

I.  The  Water  says  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God. — That  baptismal  scene  at  Jordan  means  much. 
Not  only  by  it  did  Jesus  fulfil  all  righteousness,  but 
by  it  he  was  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God.  In  it 
we  see  the  Father  and  the  Spirit  uniting  in  their 
testimony  to  that  mighty  fact,  or  truth,  on  which 
our  faith  rests, — that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God.  As  the  voice 
from  heaven  did  audibly,  as  the  descending  Spirit, 
in  his  dove-like  form,  did  visibly,  so  did  the  waters 
of  baptism,  sensibly  arid  palpably,  proclaim  to  us 
that  Jesus  was  the  Son  of  God.  The  announce- 
ment coming  forth  from  that  baptismal  symbol,  of 
which  the  one  John  made  use,  and  of  which  the 
other  John  here  reminds  us,  was  most  intelligible 
and  .explicit.  It  was  neither  ambiguous  nor  uncer- 
tain. It  pointed  out  the  person,  while  it  proclaimed 
his  character  and  office.  And  it  came  not  from 
earth,  but  from  heaven.  It  came  from  him  who 
cannot  be  mistaken,  and  who  will  mislead  no  man ; 
from  him  whose  witness- bearing  is  the  surest  of  all 
testimonies.  Unbelief  can  no  longer  cavil  or  mis- 
doubt ;  faith  need  no  longer  hesitate ;  here  is  God's 


352  THE  THREE  WITNESSES. 

own  proclamation,  that  puts  uncertainty  aside,  and 
sets  all  misgivings  at  rest.  God  himself,  in  that 
water,  speaks  to  man,  and  says,  "  This  is  my 
beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased."  What 
farther  need  have  we  of  witnesses  ? 

II.  The  Blood  says  Jesus  is  tJie  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God. — On  four  occasions  was  the  blood  poured 
forth,  at  his  circumcision  ;  inGethsemane ;  in  Pilate's 
hall,  when  he  was  scourged  and  crowned  with 
thorns ;  and  on  the  cross.  But  it  is  to  the  testimony 
of  the  cross  that  the  apostle  here  refers.  That  tes- 
timony was  given  both  before  and  after  death. 
The  nails  of  the  cross  drew  forth  his  blood  before 
death,  and  the  soldier's  spear  drew  out  the  re- 
mainder after  death ;  thus  completely  pouring  out 
the  "  blood  which  was  the  life,"  and  announcing 
that  he  had  thoroughly  died,  and  that  the  evidence 
of  that  death  was  as  complete  as  it  was  visible. 

The  blood  is  God's  testimony  that  he  is  in  very 
deed  "  the  Christ ;"  the  Seed  of  the  woman ;  the 
Man  with  the  bruised  heel;  the  Messiah  of  the 
prophets ;  the  Sin-offering  of  Israel ;  the  Fulfiller  of 
all  types  and  promises.  While  the  water  says, 
"  Unto  us  a  Child  is  born ;"  the  blood  says,  "  He 
has  borne  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows,  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  on  him,  and  by  his 
stripes  we  are  healed."  His  baptism  said  to  us, 
"  The  Word  has  been  made  flesh ;"  the  cross  pro- 
claimed, "Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh 
away  the  sin  of  the  world   " 


THE  THREE  WITNESSES.  353 

As,  without  the  sacrificial  life-taking  on  the  cross, 
he  would  have  been  but  half  a  Christ,  nay,  no 
Christ  at  all  to  us  ;  so  God  has  taken  special  pains 
to  let  us  see  that  that  life  was  really  taken,  and 
that  he  is  in  very  deed  the  Christ  of  God.  Hence 
the  stress  which  John  lays  on  the  piercing  of  his 
side,  and  the  issuing  of  the  blood  and  water  ;  "He 
that  saw  it  bare  record  ;  and  his  record  is  true  ; 
and  he  knoweth  that  he  saith  true  ;  that  ye  might 
believe"  (John  xix.  34,  35).  And  then  he  adds 
afterwards,  "  These  are  written  that  ye  might 
believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God  ; 
and  that  believing,  ye  might  have  life  through  his 
name"  (John  xx  31). 

On  this  testimony,  then,  let  our  faith  rest.  The 
witness  is  divine,  for  it  is  "  the  blood  of  God  ;"  and 
he  who  speaks  to  us  in  that  blood  is  Jehovah  him- 
self. The  blood  is  the  proof  which  God  has  given 
us,  that  this  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  in  very  deed  the 
Christ  of  God.  False  religion  and  vain  philosophy 
gather  round  a  Christ  of  their  own  fashioning  ;  a 
golden  calf  of  their  own  moulding  ;  a  Christ  whose 
blood  wTas  never  shed.  But  that  which  is  true  and 
divine,  acknowledges,  as  its  alpha  and  omega,  a 
Christ  who  died  as  well  as  lived  ;  a  Christ  who  took 
upon  him  our  curse  ;  a  Christ  whose  person,  how- 
ever glorious  in  itself,  is  nothing  to  us  sinners, 
without  the  bloodshedding  of  his  sacrificial  work. 

III.  The  Spirit  says  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of 
God.     Tt  was  the  Spirit  that  bore  witness  to  Christ 


354  THE  THREE  WITNESSES. 

at  his  baptism,  when  he  descended  on  him  like  a 
dove  ;  and  it  was  the  same  Spirit  who,  at  Pentecost, 
came  down  in  such  mighty  power  to  sum  up  the 
testimony.  As  the  Dove  at  Jordan,  and  as  the 
tongue  of  fire  in  the  upper  chamber,  he  bore 
witness  to  the  truth  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God. 
And  still  he  carries  on  his  testimony,  though  no 
longer  by  visible  form,  or  audible  sound.  He 
testifies  of  Christ ;  he  glorifies  Christ.  He  points 
at  once  to  his  person  and  his  cross  ;  he  takes  us  to 
his  cradle  at  Bethlehem,  and  to  his  tomb  at  Gol- 
gotha. All  that  he  now  is  doing  bears  reference  to 
the  Son  of  God.  He  tells  us  what  the  wTater 
means,  and  confirms  its  testimony.  Thus  is  the 
evidence  completed  ;  nay,  more  than  completed  ; 
for  though  two  witnesses  would  have  sufficed,  ac- 
cording to  the  law,  God  has  added  this  third  one, 
—  one  in  all  respects  divine, — to  confirm  the  truth 
beyond  the  possibility  of  doubt.  And  now  we 
know  of  a  truth  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God,  the   sacrifice  for   sin,  the  Saviour  of  the 

world. 

Now  we  know  that  the  Son  of  God  is  come  ;  and 
this  is  the  resting-place  of  faith.  The  water  says, 
"  He  is  come  ;"  the  blood  says,  "  He  is  come  ;"  the 
Spirit  says,  "  He  is  come."  Here  faith  rests  ;  and, 
resting  here,  it  "  overcomes  the  wrorld."  No  other 
faith  can  give  us  the  victory  save  that  which  roots 
itself  in  the  truth,  that  Jesus  is  the  Son  of  God, 
and  in  the  evidence  of  this,  supplied  to  us  by  these 
three  witnesses.     "  A  faithful  witness  will  not  lie ;" 


THE  THREE  WITNESSES.  355 

and  here  are  three  faithful  witnesses,  furnished 
by  God  himself.  A  "true  witness  delivereth  souls;" 
and  here  we  have  three  true  witnesses,  on  whose 
testimony  we  rest  for  the  deliverance  of  our  souls. 

If,  then,  we  would  be  conquerors,  let  us  cast 
ourselves  more  absolutely  on  this  threefold  testi- 
mony, and  drink  in  its  spirit  and  meaning.  It  is 
only  in  proportion  as  we  do  so  that  we  shall  prove 
victorious.  Nothing  else  can  give  victory  but  faith  ; 
and  no  faith  can  do  this  save  that  which  leans  on 
divine  testimony.  Every  other  will  give  way 
or  break  down.  This  only  will  stand,  and,  in 
standing,  prove  itself  an  "overcoming"  faith  ;  a 
wrorld- overcoming  faith,  because  a  faith  in  Him  who 
has  overcome  the  world  for  us.  The  more  that  we 
know  of  him  who  lived  that  he  might  do  battle 
with  the  world,  and  died  that  he  might  vanquish 
it,  the  more  shall  wre  ourselves  prove  conquerors, 
"  more  than  conquerors,  through  him  who  loved 
us." 

The  reason  why  so  many  are  weak  and  sickly 
among  us,  so  unable  either  to  fight  or  to  stand,  is 
that  they  do  not  believe  that  which  these  three 
witnesses  testify,  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son 
of  God  ;  or,  if  they  believe  it,  they  do  not  think  it 
enough.  Thev  must  have  something  added  to 
this  great  truth  before  it  will  yield  them  either 
confidence  or  strength  !  But  if  God  be  true,  it  is, 
of  itself,  enough.  If  what  the  water  sa}rs  be  true; 
if  what  the  blood  says  be  true;  if  what  the  Spirit  says 
is  true,  we  are  provided  with  all  we  need,  for  the 


356  THE  THREE  WITNESSES. 

warfare  and  the  victory.  "  Who  is  he  that  over- 
comet  h  the  world,  but  he  that  believeth  that  Jesus 
is  the  Christ  ?"  In  all  our  battles  let  us  take  this 
as  our  watchword,  the  mighty,  the  divine  spell, 
with  which  we  overcome  the  enemy.  There  is 
nothing  like  it.  And  just  as  it  is  written,  "  Who 
is  he  that  overcometh  the  world  but  he  that  be- 
lieveth that  Jesus  is  the  Christ/'  so  it  is  also  written, 
"Whosoever  believeth  that  Jesus  is  the  Christ, 
is  born  of  God."  Can  words  be  more  explicit? 
If  this  great  fact  be  true ;  if  there  be  enough  of  evi- 
dence for  it,  and  if  it  be,  in  its  own  large  fulness, 
sufficient  to  bring  you  blessing,  as  God  says  it  is, 
then  why  should  we  doubt,  or  why  refuse,  to  take 
the  gladness  which  this  fact  of  facts  embodies  and 
presents  ?  Most  assuredly  it  does  contain,  as  in 
a  golden  urn,  all  the  peace,  and  the  hojDe,  and  the 
joy,  which  a  human  soul  can  possess  ;  and  he 
who  has  not  received  this  joy  and  peace,  has  not 
yet  understood  the  meaning  of  this  mighty  fact. 
Is  Jesus  really  the  Christ  ?  Is  this  proved  and 
established  beyond  a  doubt  ?  Do  you  receive  it 
as  true,  not  upon  the  report  of  men,  but  upon  the 
testimony  of  these  three  witnesses  ?  Then  is  it 
not  written  that  "  whosoever  believeth  that  Jesus 
is  the  Christ  is  born  of  God  ?"  and  what,  then, 
should  shake  your  peace  or  your  confidence,  save 
that  which  shakes  the  evidence  of  this  blessed  fact, 
— the  evidence  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  the  Christ, 
and  that  this  Christ  of  God  died  and  rose  from 
the  dead  ? 


THE  THREE  WITNESSES.  357 

Is  this  truth,  this  event,  which  God  accounts  so 
excellent  and  so  momentous,  a  dubious  thing  ?  Or, 
even  though  certain,  is  it  a  small  thing  in  your 
eyes  ; — a  trivial  and  subordinate  piece  of  kno  //- 
ledge  which  a  man  may  accept,  and  yet  not  be  the 
better  for  it,  or  reject,  and  yet  be  none  the  worse  ? 
Nay;  it  is  no  poor,  no  common  thing.  It  is  the 
greatest  fact  which  our  earth  has  yet  witnessed  ; 
it  is  the  most  powerful,  the  most  pregnant,  the 
most  vital,  the  most  transforming  of  all.  Take 
it  gladly  in.  Bid  it  welcome.  Let  it  have  free 
course  throughout  your  whole  being,  unchecked  by 
any  wretched  surmises,  as  to  its  not  being  suffi- 
cient to  do  such  great  things  for  you.  Take  it  in 
all  its  rich  and  boundless  meaning,  as  at  once  the 
vindication  of  God's  righteousness,  and  the  exposi- 
tion of  his  love ;  and  you  will  find  what  peace,  what 
life,  what  healing  it  can  diffuse  throughout  your 
whole  being.  Like  a  goodly  vessel,  laden  with  the 
riches,  the  fruit,  the  fragrance,  of  a  hundred  climes, 
— nay,  with  the  very  glory  of  the  heaven  of 
Jieavens — it  will  enter  your  port  and  unload  its 
divine  freight,  filling  your  soul, — were  you  the 
most  sorrowful  of  earth's  sons, — with  the  joy  un- 
speakable and  full  of  glory. 


SERMON  XLII. 

THE   DIVINE   BANQUET. 

u  He  shall  eat  the  bread  of  his  God,  both  of  the  most  holy,  and  of  the 

holy."— Lev.  xxi.  22. 

It  is  not  easy  to  say  whether  the  words.  "  bread  of 
his  God/'  refer  generally  to  the  sacrifices  and  offer- 
ings, or  specially  to  the  "  shew-bread."  We  take 
them  as  pointing  to  the  latter  ;  as,  indeed,  in  any 
interpretation  of  the  expression,  the  shew-bread 
must  be  included,  if  not  mainly  intended. 

It  was  called  the  "  shew-bread  ;"  or,  more  pro- 
perly, "  the  bread  of  the  presence  ;"  the  bread  that 
stood  on  the  King's  table,  and  in  the  King's  pre- 
sence ;  the  bread  which  was  therefore  intimately 
connected  with  him  who  is  called  "the  Angel  of 
the  Presence '  (Isa.  lxii.  9)  ;  the  bread  which  was 
associated  with  him  whose  "presence  "  went  with 
Israel  whithersoever  they  went  (Ex.  xxxiii.  14). 

The  name  of  itself  marked  it  as  something  dif- 
ferent from  the  manna.  That  was  "angels'  food" 
(Ps.  lxxviii.  25)  ;  it  was  the  bread  of  heaven  (Ps. 
cv.  40)  ;  but  this  was  "  presence-bread,"  the  King's 
own  loaf;  "royal  dainties;"  taken  each  Sabbath 
morning  from  the  King's  table,  and  given  to  the 

"royal  priesthood  "  who  ministered  to  the  Mighty 
358 


THE  DIVINE  BANQUET.  359 

King.  Yet  was  it  made  of  common  wheat,  the 
fruit  of  the  curse-laden  soil  ;  ground  in  the  mill  ; 
mixed  with  water  ;  kneaded  by  the  hands  of  a 
man  ;  baked  by  fire, — and  this  not  altar-fire,  but 
common  fire  from  man's  hearth, — like  other  bread. 
And  though,  in  after  times,  all  this  was  done  by 
the  Levites  or  Kohathites,  yet  at  first  it  is  enjoined 
on  Moses  himself,  as  the  representative  of  the  great 
King,  whose  bread  it  was.  Such  was  the  typical 
bread  ;  the  "  bread  of  the  presence  ;"  bread  setting 
forth  something  truer,  and  more  substantial,  more 
spiritual,  more  royal,  more  divine  ;  the  "  true 
bread  ;"  the  bread  of  God  :  that  "  flesh  which  is 
meat  indeed."  For  the  food  of  the  Church,  in  each 
age,  has  been  the  same  ;  "  they  did  all  eat  the 
same  spiritual  meat"  (1  Cor.  x.  3)  ;  and  thus  all 
along  faith  realised  "the  communion  of  the  body 
of  Christ  "  (1  Cor.  x.  16),  and  even  before  he  came, 
led  Israel  to  see,  that,  u  though  many,  they  are  one 
bread  and  one  body,  being  all  partakers  of  that  one 
bread"  (1  Cor.  x.  17). 

Let  us  examine  this  true  "  presence-bread,"  set 
before  God's  kings  and  priests  as  their  true  and 
eternal  food. 

I.  It  is  provided  by  God. — As  in  carrying  out  his 
purpose  in  the  old  creation,  he  provided  every 
fruit-bearing  tree  for  man  ;  so,  in  accomplishing 
the  new  creation,  he  has  supplied  the  "  food  con- 
venient/' He  gave  the  tree  of  life  for  the  paradise 
of  the  first  Adam ;  and  he  has  not  forgotten  it  in  that 


360  THE  DIVINE  BANQUET. 

of  the  second.  He  has  made  the  provision  for  his 
house  ;  and  he  has  also  blessed  it.  For  the  sustain- 
ing the  life  which  he  imparts,  he  provides  the  food 
required.  Therefore  was  the  "  presence-bread  "  of 
old  called  "the  bread  of  our  God/'  because  both 
itself,  and  that  which  it  symbolised,  were  provided 
bv  God  himself.  To  clothe  the  lilies  and  to  feed 
the  ravens,  was  to  give  us  the  pledge  of  fullest 
blessing  for  the  souls  of  those  who  were  more  pre- 
cious by  far  than  lilies  or  ravens  ;  and  to  place  the 
twelve  weekly  loaves  on  the  sanctuary  table  for 
the  representatives  of  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel, 
was  to  give  to  his  whole  Church,  in  all  coming  ages, 
the  thousand  times  repeated  assurance,  that  he 
would  provide  for  each  member  of  that  vast  but 
scattered  company,  the  true  bread,  even  the  flesh 
of  Him  who  was  given  for  the  life  of  the  world. 

IT.  It  is  prepared  by  God  himself. — Moses,  as 
representing  God,  prepared  the  twelve  loaves  ;  and 
God  himself  has  prepared  the  better  bread,  the  flesh 
of  the  Son  of  Man.  "  A  body  hast  thou  prepared 
me."  As  it  was  not  mere  fruit,  the  simple  growth 
of  the  soil,  that  was  to  be  laid  on  the  sanctuary 
table  as  God's  bread,  but  loaves  carefully  prepared 
of  certain  materials,  so  was  it  in  the  case  of  him 
whose  "  flesh  is  meat  indeed."  Very  careful  was 
the  preparation  of  this  bread  of  God.  It  was  com- 
mitted to  "  the  Holy  Ghost,"  and  it  was  accom- 
plished by  "the  power  of  the  highest"  (Luke  i.  35). 
Various  were  the  earthly  processes  through  which 


THE  DIVINE  BANQUET.  361 

it  had  to  pass,  before  it  could  be  laid  on  God's  table 
and  become  proper  food  for  God's  ro}7al  priesthood ; 
and,  in  the  growth  of  the  wheat  in  Israel's  fields 
for  Israel's  shew-bread, — its  cutting  down,  its  grind- 
ing, its  kneading,  its  firing, — in  all  these  we  have 
a  symbol  of  the  processes,  by  means  of  which  the 
bread  of  God  was  prepared  for  us.  In  the  history 
of  the  birth,  the  life,  the  sorrows,  the  hardships, 
the  blood- shedding,  the  death  of  the  incarnate  Son 
of  God,  we  have  a  description  of  the  way  in  which 
the  "  shew-bread  '  or  "  presence-bread '  of  the 
Church  was  prepared,  according  to  God's  own 
method,  for  our  everlasting  food.  A  fragment  of 
our  common  humanity,  separated  from  the  mass 
by  God's  own  hand,  is  united  to  Godhead  in  the 
person  of  the  Eternal  Son.  This  God-man,  very 
man  and  very  God,  is  subjected  to  poverty  and 
wrant,  to  hunger  and  thirst,  to  weariness  and  sleep- 
lessness, to  pain  and  sorrow,  to  the  persecution  of 
man  and  the  fire  of  God's  anger,  till  being  "  made 
perfect  through  suffering/'  he  becomes  "  the  bread 
of  God."  Israel's  shew-bread  was  not  eaten  raw, 
nor  unkneaded,  nor  unbaked,  nor  unfired  ;  so, 
neither  could  our  bread  be  fit  for  our  use  till  it  had 
passed  through  similar  processes  of  preparation. 
Ah  !  how  little  we  realise  the  truth,  that  a  Christ 
not  made  perfect  through  sufferings,  would  have 
been  no  Christ  to  us  ;  and  that  every  grief  he  bore, 
every  change  he  passed  through,  was  fitting  him 
to  be  more  fully  and  more  truly  the  "  bread  of  life" 
for  us. 


362  THE  DIVINE  BANQUET. 

III.  It  is  given  to  us  by  God. — God  causes  it  to 
be  provided  for  us  ;  nay,  he  prepares  it  himself ; 
and  then  having  thus  provided  and  prepared  it,  he 
gives  it.  "God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave 
his  only-begotten  Son'  (John  iii.  16)  ;  "the 
bread  that  I  will  give  is  my  flesh,  which  I  will  give 
for  the  life  of  the  world  '  (John  vi.  51)  ;  "  this  is 
my  body  which  is  given  for  you  '  (Luke  xxii.  19). 
"My  Father  giveth  you  the  true  bread  from  heaven" 
(John  vi.  32).  There  is  no  buying  on  our  part,  or 
selling  on  his  ;  it  is  all  a  gift  from  first  to  last  ;  the 
gift  of  divine  love,  the  donation  of  royal  munificence ; 
the  liberality  of  him  who,  as  he  would  not  have  us 
bought  with  anything  but  blood  divine,  or  clothed 
with  anything  but  heavenly  raiment,  so  would  he 
not  have  us  fed  on  anything  save  "  the  finest  of  the 
wheat."  Yes,  "  this  is  the  record  that  God  hath 
given  to  us  eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in  his  Son." 
He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life ;  and  he  that  believes 
the  Father's  testimony  hath  the  Son.  "  All  things 
are  ready,  come  ye  to  the  feast."  "  Eat,  0  friends  ; 
drink,  yea,  drink  abundantly,  0  beloved."  And  to" 
the  sinner  it  says,  "  Wherefore  will  ye  spend  your 
money  for  that  which  is  not  bread  and  your  labour 
for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ?  hearken  unto  me, 
and  (ye  shall)  eat  that  which  is  good,  and  your  soul 
shall  delight  itself  in  fatness  "  (Isa.  lv.  2).'  "  This 
is  the  true  bread,  of  which  if  a  man  eat  he  shall 
live  for  ever." 

IV.  Who  they  are  who  feast  on  it. — Perhaps  the 


THE  DIVINE  BANQUET.  3G3 

answer  to  such  a  question  will  be, — God's  priest- 
hood ,  his  church.  Nor  would  this  be  incorrect  ; 
yet  it  would  be  defective.  No  doubt  this  heavenly 
bread  is  for  them,  just  as  the  tree  of  life  was  for 
Adam,  or  the  temple  shew-bread  was  for  the  sons 
of  Aaron.  But  it  is  so  specially  called  "the  bread 
of  our  God  ;"  and  the  table  on  which  it  is  set  is  so 
specially  God's  own  table  ;  and  the  place  where  it 
is  to  be  eaten  is  so  manifestly  the  royal  banquet- 
hall  of  heaven,  that  we  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
God  himself  is  partaker  of  this  feast  as  well  as  ive. 
The  King,  sitting  at  his  own  table,  in  his  own  festal 
chamber,  not  only  feeds  his  guests,  but  himself  par- 
takes of  that  which  is  set  before  them.  Of  wine  it 
is  said  (no  doubt  in  reference  to  the  drink-offering), 
"it  cheereth  God  and  man"  (Judges  ix.  13)  ;  as  if 
God  himself  were  refreshed  by  those  offerings  by 
which  the  souls  of  his  people  were  refreshed.  In 
reference  to  the  meat-offering  and  the  drink-offering, 
it  is  said  that  they  are  "  of  a  sweet  savour  unto  the 
Lord"  (Num.  xxviii.  8),  shewing  us  that  the  thing  in 
which  his  people  delighted  was  the  same  with  which 
he  himself  was  satisfied.  It  was  not  the  mere  wine, 
nor  the  bread,  nor  the  lamb,  nor  the  frankincense, 
which  was  thus  so  acceptable  to  God,  and  in  which 
his  soul  delighted  ;  it  was  that  which  these  all  sym- 
bolised and  embodied  ;  that  which  in  the  fulness 
of  time  was  to  be  unfolded  in  its  manifold  excel- 
lence,— the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  the  ful- 
ness of  him  "  in  whom  it  pleased  the  Father  that 
all  fulness  should  dwell." 


364  THE  DIVINE  BANQUET. 

It  was  for  himself,  then,  no  less  than  for  us,  that 
the  Father  was  preparing  this  divine  feast  ;  it  is 
for  himself,  as  truly  as  for  us,  that  he  has  furnished 
this  table,  and  set  on  it  that  divine  bread  which  is 
to  be  his  repast,  and  ours  as  his  priesthood,  through- 
out that  eternal  Sabbath  in  which  we  are  both  to 
rest  and  feast  with  him.  The  sacrifice  is  over,  but 
the  feast  remains,  for  it  is  eternal  ;  standing  per- 
petually upon  God's  table,  and  not  needing,  like 
Israel's  perishable  shew-bread,  to  be  removed  and 
renewed,  but  abiding  the  same  for  ever  ;  not  con- 
sumed, though  ever  fed  upon  by  numbers  without 
number,  but,  like  the  five  Bethsaida  loaves,  leaving 
more  behind  at  the  end  than  it  had  at  the  begin- 
ning ! 

Israel's  various  sacrifices  and  offerings  of  all  kinds 
were  the  various  dishes  set  upon  the  great  temple- 
table  ;  each  of  them  full  of  meaning ;  each  of  them  con- 
taining that  which  would  satisfy  and  comfort ;  every 
one  of  them  setting  forth  some  part  of  the  glorious 
fulness  of  the  God-man,  as  the  true  food  of  souls  ; 
and  all  of  them  together  representing  that  complete 
and  blessed  feast  of  "  fat  things '  partaken  of  by 
God  and  by  his  redeemed,  in  some  measure  now, 
but  hereafter  to  be  more  fully  enjoyed  at  the  great 
marriage- supper  in  the  New  Jerusalem,  when  that 
shall  be  fulfilled,  so  long  realised  but  in  parts  and 
fragments,  u  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup 
with  him,  and  he  with  me"  (Rev.  iii.  20). 

Thus  God  in  preparing  Christ,  in  making  him 
what  he  is,  in  filling  him  with  the  divine  fulness, 


THE  DIVINE  BANQUET.  365 

was  not  only  providing  bread  for  us  to  all  eternity, 
but  for  himself ;  for  with  nothing  less  than  this 
could  he  be  satisfied.  There  is  that  in  Christ  which 
affords  infinite  and  unutterable  satisfaction  to  the 
Father  ;  and  if,  over  the  creation  of  heaven  and 
earth,  he  could  rejoice,  pronouncing  it  very  good, 
and  feasting  on  the  wondrous  workmanship  of  his 
own  hands,  how  much  more  will  he  delight  in  him 
who  is  infinitely  more  glorious,  more  excellent, 
more  perfect  than  all  heaven  and  earth  together  ; 
how  much  more  truly  and  satisfyingly  will  he  feast 
on  him  who  is  the  infinity  of  created  and  uncreated 
excellence,  the  vast  treasure-house  of  all  that 
God,  or  man,  or  angels,  can  desire,  the  perfection 
of  all  perfection,  the  beauty  of  all  beauty,  the  glory 
of  all  glory. 

Israel's  bread  was  called  " shew- bread"  or  "pre- 
sence-bread," because  set  before  the  presence  of 
Jehovah,  and  eaten  in  his  holy  place.  So  is  it  with 
Christ.  He  is  specially  the  bread  of  the  Presence, 
the  bread  set  before  the  King,  and  eaten  in  his 
palace.  As  it  is  said  of  the  feast  in  Ezekiel's 
temple,  "  The  prince,  he  shall  sit  in  it,  to  eat 
bread  before  the  Lord '  (Ezek.  xliv.  3)  ;  and  so  do 
we  sit  down  at  a  communion-table  to  eat  the  true 
presence-bread  before  the  Lord,  the  Lord  himself, 
in  whose  presence  we  sit,  feasting  along  with  us. 

Israel's  shew-bread  was  for  the  priesthood  ;  no 
others  were  to  eat  it.  So  the  bread  of  God  is  for 
God's  true  priesthood,  his  church.  It  is  not  for 
angels,  at  least  in  the  way  that  it  is  for  the  re- 


366  THE  DIVINE  BANQUET. 

deemed.  Angels'  food  was,  indeed,  once  given  to 
man  ;  but  man's  food  is  not  to  be  given  to  angels. 
It  is  something  of  which  only  redeemed  men  can 
partake,  and  in  partaking  of  which  they  are  asso- 
ciated with  God. 

Israel's  shew-bread  was  specially  for  the  Sabbath 
feast  of  the  priesthood.  So,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
Christ  the  food,  not  only  of  our  Sabbaths  here,  but 
of  the  eternal  Sabbath  in  reserve  for  us,  when  we 
shall  enter  into  the  temple  of  our  God,  to  go  out  no 
more. 

Israel's  shew-bread  is  called  the  "continual' 
bread.  Though  the  symbolic  loaves  were  of  neces- 
sity changed  every  week,  yet  there  were  always 
loaves  on  the  table,  and  always  loaves  for  the 
priest's  repasts,  so  that  the  bread  seemed  always 
to  be  in  the  process  of  being  eaten,  and  yet  never 
diminished  nor  consumed.  Our  better  shew-bread 
is  "continual;"  it  is  "everlasting;"  and  as  the 
bush  burned  with  fire,  yet  was  never  consumed,  so 
the  bread  is  always  being  eaten,  yet  never  wasted. 
It  is  everlasting  bread. 

This,  then,  is  the  "true  bread  ;"  the  "bread  of 
God,  the  bread  of  life  ;"  that  which  God  calls  "the 
bread  of  their  God  ;"  "My  bread"  (Num.  xxviii.  2) ; 
the  eternal  food  of  the  soul  ;  that  on  which  we 
feed,  and  on  which  God  feeds  ;  that,  in  feeding  on 
which,  we  have  communion  with  God,  and  God 
with  us,  both  sitting  at  the  one  table  and  partaking 
of  the  one  bread.  As  it  is  at  the  cross  of  Christ 
that  we  first  meet  with  God  in  peace,  so  it  is  round 


THE  DIVINE  BANQUET.  367 

the  eternal  table  where  the  great  shew-bread  is 
placed  that  we  meet  continually,  and  carry  on  the 
intercourse  begun  at  the  cross,  "  The  bread  which 
we  break,  is  it  not  the  communion  of  the  body  of 
Christ  ?  so  that  we,  though  one  body  and  one  bread, 
are  all  parto.kers  of  that  one  bread."  We  have  thus 
found  a  common  centre,  a  true  and  congenial  meet- 
ing-place. We  feed  on  that  which  God  calls  his 
bread  ;  and  with  that  bread  we  are  satisfied,  even 
as  he  is  satisfied ;  well-pleased  with  that  with  which 
he  is  well-pleased.  We  sit  down  at  the  same  table, 
and  partake  of  the  same  food ;  and  the  Lamb  slain, 
the  broken  body  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God,  is  at 
once  the  centre  of  our  fellowship,  the  substance  of 
our  repast,  and  the  fountain  of  our  joy. 


SERMON   XLIII. 

BETHANY   AND   ITS   FEAST, 

« 

"  Then  Jesus,  six  days  before  the  passover,  came  to  Bethany,  where 
Lazarus  was  which  had  been  dead,  whom  he  raised  from  the  dead.  There 
they  made  him  a  supper ;  and  Martha  served :  but  Lazarus  was  one  of 
them  that  sat  at  the  table  with  him.  Then  took  Mary  a  pound  of  oint- 
ment of  spikenard,  very  costly,  and  anointed  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  wiped 
his  feet  with  her  hair :  and  the  house  was  filled  with  the  odour  of  the 
ointment." — John  xii.  1-3. 

We  find  ourselves  here  at  Bethany,  amid  fig-trees, 
and  olives,  and  sycamores.  In  its  quiet  hollow,  on 
the  eastern  slope  of  Olivet, — there  it  lies,  encircled 
with  its  orchards,  out  of  the  reach  of  the  city  din. 
It  has  been  noted  for  many  things  in  the  life  of 
Christ,  but  specially  for  the  resurrection  of  Laza- 
rus. The  like  could  not  be  said  of  Jerusalem, 
though  so  nigh  at  hand.  And  with  what  an  eye  of 
solemn  wonder  would  men  look  on  it,  as  they  passed 
on  their  way  to  or  fVom  Jericho,  saying  to  each 
each  other, — In  yon  village  a  man  was  raised  from 
the  dead. 

The  house  at  which  we  find  ourselves  is  that  of 
Simon  the  leper  (Matt,  xxvi.,  Mark  xiv.) ;  a  house 
that  had  once  been  shunned,  and  would  still  bo 
looked  upon  with  a  suspicious  eye.  To  this  house 
Jesus  had  been  invited;  and  he  goes.  What  mat- 
ters the  name  of  a  leprous  house  to  one  who  has 
3G8 


BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST.  369 

come  to  heal ;  to  one  whom  no  infection  can  touch, 
and  all  diseases  obey.  The  feast  is  a  great  one ; 
and  many  are  there ;  some  to  see  Jesus,  and  some 
Lazarus,  the  risen  man.  It  is  Jesus,  however,  who 
is  the  centre  of  the  circle;  and  round  him  the 
group  is  gathered.  The  persons  mentioned  here 
are  only  spoken  of  in  connection  with  Him  :  Laza- 
rus, Mary,  Martha,  are  but  subordinate  parts,  in  a 
scene  of  which  the  Lord  is  the  centre.  From  him 
it  is  that  they  derive  all  their  interest  and  signifi- 
cance. Their  names,  their  persons,  their  characters, 
their  movements,  are  nothing  to  us,  save  in  their 
relation  to  him. 

Apart  from  him,  too,  the  feast  is  but  a  common 
meal,  such  as  is  every  day  partaken  of  among  men. 
It  is  His  presence  that  sanctifies  it,  and  turns  it 
into  something  special,  if  not  sacramental.  When 
he  comes  in  and  sups  with  us,  the  room,  the  table, 
the  food,  the  company  undergo  a  transfiguration. 
Connection  with  him  dignifies  and  ennobles,  nay, 
consecrates  them.  Without  him  all  things  are  low 
and  tame.  With  him  they  become  sacred  and 
lofty.  As  his  touch  healed,  so  did  his  presence 
elevate  and  glorify. 

Let  us  note  each  of  the  four  personages  here,  in 
so  far  as  they  are  linked  with  Him  who  gives 
meaning  and  importance  to  what  they  are,  and  what 
they  do. 

I.  Simon  entertaining. — He  had  known  Christ 
before ;  though  when  and  where  we  are  not  told. 

a  a 


370  BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST. 

It  seems  to  have  been  his  leprosy  that  first  brought 
him  to  Christ,  and  Christ  to  him.  His  disease  was 
his  link  of  connection  with  the  Lord;  and  had  it 
not  been  for  it,  he  might  never  have  sought  him. 
It  is  still  so  with  us.  Our  first  interview  is  respect- 
ing our  sin,  our  moral  leprosy.  It  is  conscience  that 
seeks  the  interview,  even  though  filled  with  mis- 
givings as  to  its  result.  We  go  to  converse  with 
him,  not  about  the  good  that  is  in  us,  but  the  evil. 
The  sense  of  guilt  draws  us  to  him  as  the  pardoner, 
and  the  consciousness  of  sin  constrains  us  to  deal 
with  him  as  the  healer  and  renewer.  And  as  we 
began,  so  also  do  we  go  on.  Sin  brought  us  to 
him,  and  him  to  us ;  and  sin  keeps  us  constantly  at 
his  side.  Intercourse  with  him  has  become  a  neces- 
sity of  our  new  being.  It  cannot  break  or  end.  It 
must  not  be  loosened,  but  drawn  closer  every  day ; 
for  the  more  that  we  get  from  him,  the  more  we 
learn  our  need.  Simon  finds  that  he  has  much  more 
to  do  with  Jesus  than  merely  for  the  cure  of  his 
leprosy ;  therefore  he  must  have  him  under  his  roof, 
and  at  his  table.  So  is  it  with  us.  We  begin  our 
intercourse  by  going  to  him  with  our  sins;  but  we 
soon  discover  that  it  cannot  be  ended  here.  Our 
acquaintanceship  must  be  a  companionship;  a  con- 
stant interchange  of  thought  and  sympathy.  "We 
invite  him  to  our  house,  and  he  comes.  We  ask 
li i in  to  dine  with  us,  and  he  comes.  For  no  invi- 
tation, whether  from  Pharisee  or  publican,  did  the 
Lord  ever  decline.  He  sits  down  to  feast  with  us 
at  our  table  here;  and  while  sitting  there  as  our 


BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST.  371 

guest,  he  invites  us  to  sup  with  him  at  his  table 
above,  where  we  shall  be  the  guests,  and  he  the 
host.  How  great  the  honour  enjoyed  by  Simon,  of 
entertaining  the  Lord  of  glory ;  sitting  at  his  own 
table,  with  Jesus  at  his  side  as  his  guest !  And  how 
marvellous  the  condescension  of  Christ,  in  thus 
sitting  at  the  leper's  table  as  one  of  his  household ! 
Here,  then,  is  the  Saviour  that  suits  us; — the 
healer  of  the  leper,  and  the  guest  of  the  healed 
one  !  We  say  to  him,  "  Heal  me,"  and  he  heals; 
"  come  in,"  and  he  comes ;  "  sit  down  at  my  table," 
and  he  sits  down  straightway. 

In  this  Bethany-feast,  it  is  interesting  to  notice 
what  we  may  call  the  sinner's  side  of  the  gospel. 
Here,  it  is  not  Christ  inviting  and  receiving  the 
sinner ;  but  the  sinner  inviting  and  receiving  Christ. 
It  is  not  Christ  saying,  "  Come  to  me,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest ;"  it  is  the  sinner  saying  to  Christ, 
"Come  to  me,  and  I  will  feast  you;"  it  is  not 
Christ  knocking  at  the  sinner's  door,  but  the  sinner 
knocking  at  Christ's ;  it  is  not  Christ  supplying  the 
sinner's  wants,  but  the  sinner  supplying  Christ's. 
In  our  dealings  with  the  Lord  we  must  not  over- 
look either  side.  He  is,  no  doubt,  first  with  us  in 
all  things ;  but  this  should  only  make  us  the  more 
anxious  to  remember  the  response, — the  lifetime's 
response, — with  which  he  expects  to  be  met.  The 
love  and  the  embrace  must  be  mutual,  as  also  the 
invitation  and  the  joy.  It  is  not  Joseph  weeping 
on  the  neck  of  Benjamin;  but  Benjamin  weeping 
on  the  neck  of  Joseph, 


372  BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST. 

II.  Lazarus  feasting. — He  is  a  fellow-guest,  with 
the  Lord  himself,  at  Simon's  board.  When  Simon 
sends  his  invitation  to  Christ  to  dine  with  him,  he 
bids  Lazarus  also  to  the  feast.  And  there  this 
raised  one  sits,  side  by  side  with  Jesus,  at  the 
leper's  table.  What  a  feast,  and  what  a  company! 
The  like  had  not  been  seen  before  ;  Simon  the 
healed  one,  and  Christ  the  Healer;  Lazarus  the 
raised  one,  and  Christ  the  Raiser;  dipping  in  the 
same  dish,  drinking  of  the  same  cup,  conversing 
together  on  the  things  of  the  kingdom. 

How  or  when  Lazarus  first  became  acquainted 
with  Christ  we  know  not ;  but  it  was  his  death  that 
had  brought  about  the  special  closeness  of  contact ; 
and  it  was  at  the  tomb,  not  at  the  table,  that  the 
Lord  and  he  had  so  wonderfully  met.  The  living 
One  had  gone  into  the  dwelling  of  death,  and  there 
saluted  the  dead  man  in  his  dark  abode.  What  a 
meeting!  Ah,  surely,  Lazarus  then  discovered  that 
he  needed  Jesus  in  a  way  such  as  he  had  never 
done  before.  Back  from  the  silent  chamber  Jesus 
had  led  him ;  and  now  he  sits  down  with  him,  at  a 
table  of  earth :  type  of  the  risen  saints  who  are  to 
take  their  places  with  the  Lord  at  the  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb.  What  has  Lazarus  now  to 
do,  but  to  gaze  and  listen  ?  Simon  entertains; 
Lazarus  sits  as  guest,  drinking  in  the  everlasting 
words  from  heavenly  lips,  and  holding  fellowship 
with  the  blessed  Speaker.  This  is  our  true  pos- 
ture, as  those  who  have  died  and  risen  with  Christ ! 
Listening;  yes,  listening  ;  not  bustling,  nor  talking ; 


BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST.  373 

but  listening  to  the  Lord.  There  is  a  time  for 
working  and  for  speaking ;  but  there  is  a  time  for 
listening.  Blessed  are  they  that  know  it,  in  an  im- 
petuous age  like  ours.  When  shall  we  learn  it  ; 
and,  in  so  doing,  taste  the  profound  tranquillity 
with  which  it  soothes  the  soul  ? 

III.  Martha  Serving. — This  is  her  usual  employ- 
ment. To  serve  the  Lord  of  glory  ;  to  watch  at 
the  table  ;  to  observe  all  his  motions  ;  to  anticipate 
his  wishes  and  supply  his  wants  ;  this  is  Martha's 
posture,  both  of  body  and  soul.  It  was  the  lowest 
place,  yet  not  the  least  blessed  ;  more  like  his  own 
than  any  other.  He  came  to  serve  ;  and  in  this 
Martha  imitates  him.  To  resemble  him  in  any- 
thing was  to  be  partaker  of  his  blessedness  and  to 
share  his  fellowship.  To  have  in  us  any  part  of 
"  that  mind  that  was  in  Christ  Jesus,"  is  both  hon- 
our and  joy.  Service  to  Christ  in  any  form,  how 
blessed  !  To  loose  his  shoe-latchet ;  to  wipe  the 
dust  from  his  feet  or  the  sweat  from  his  weary  brow ; 
to  pour  water  upon  his  hands  or  to  prepare  his 
couch  ;  to  supply  any  of  his  commonest  wants  or 
render  the  simplest  offices  of  happy  love  :  these 
are  things  which  angels  might  covet,  even  were  it 
for  nothing  else  than  the  near  contact  with  himself 
into  which  they  bring  us  ;  for  anything  that  brings 
us  within  the  sound  of  his  voice,  or  the  glance  of 
his  eye,  or  the  touch  of  his  hand,  must  be  blessed- 
ness. And  if  any  one  asks,  how  this  can  be  done 
now,   seeing  he  is  in  heaven  and  we  on  earth ; 


374  BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST. 

we  answer  at  once  in  his  own  gracious  words,  "in- 
asmuch as  ye  have  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these 
my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  He  serves 
us,  and  we  serve  him  ;  and  in  this  mutual  service 
we  have  our  mutual  fellowship  and  common  joy. 

IV.  Mary  anointing. — Keverence,  homage,  love, 
are  all  embodied  in  this  act.  It  was  with  desire  to 
honour  him  ;  and  also  with  a  dim  half-conscious 
reference  to  his  coming  death  and  burial  that  she 
did  this.  She  grudges  no  cost ;  and  as  the  Bride 
in  the  song  says,  "  the  best  wine  for  my  beloved," 
so  said  her  heart,  if  not  her  lips,  "  the  best  spike- 
nard for  my  beloved  Lord."  All  to  honour  him 
whom  she  so  reverently  loved.  She  is  not  enter- 
taming,  like  Simon ;  she  is  not  feasting,  like  Lazarus; 
she  is  not  serving,  like  Martha  ;  she  is  doing  what 
some  would  consider  a  very  useless  thing,  pouring 
ointment  on  his  feet  !  That  is  all !  Oh,  useless 
expense  and  waste  of  substance,  that  might  have 
benefited  the  poor  !  Yet  her  act  gets  most  notice 
from  her  Lord.  He  says  nothing  to  Simon,  nor 
Lazarus,  nor  Martha.  It  is  Mary  that  he  marks 
and  commends.  Her  fervent  love,  pouring  itself 
out  in  one  single  act  of  honour,  gets  the  highest 
notice.  Is  there  no  silent  lesson  here  for  us  ?  It 
is  not  labour,  nor  suffering,  that  get  the  fullest 
commendation  ;  it  is  love;  pure,  warm,  ungrudging, 
loyal  love.  It  is  this  that  gets  the  Master's  "  Well 
done."  He  can  do  without  the  others,  but  not 
without  this. 


BETHANY  AND  ITS  FEAST.  375 

Thus,  these  four  are  presented  to  us  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Lord;  and  such  are  the  different 
points  at  which  the  connection  comes  out.  Simon's 
connection  is  that  of  entertaining  Christ  ;  Lazarus's 
is  that  of  feasting  with  him  ;  Marthas  that  of 
serving  him  ;  and  Mary's  that  of  anointing.  In  all 
these  ways  there  is  connection,  living  connection, 
the  contact  both  of  faith  and  love.  There  is  near- 
ness, there  is  communion;  not  once,  but  constantly; 
not  for  a  day,  but  for  ever.  It  matters  little  in 
which  of  these  ways  we  may  have  this  connection. 
They  are  all  real  and  they  are  all  blessed  ; — the 
entertaining,  the  feasting,  the  serving,  the  anoint- 
ing. We  may  have  each  of  them  in  turn  ;  for  a 
saint's  life  is  an  enjoyment  of  all  the  four.  Yester- 
day he  was  Simon  ;  to-day  he  is  Lazarus  ;  to- 
morrow he  may  be  Martha  ;  the  day  after,  Mary  ! 

It  is  but  little  indeed  that  we  can  taste  here,  even 
in  the  walk  of  happiest  fellowship  ;  for  the  best  of 
earthly  feasts  are  but  foretastes  of  the  marriage- 
supper.  But  the  whole  glad  fulness  we  shall  yet 
enjoy,  when  all  things  are  made  new  ;  and  when 
we  shall  meet  a  long  absent  Lord,  not  at  our  table, 
but  at  his  own  ;  not  in  Simon's  house,  but  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  new  creation,  when  God  shall  have 
cleansed  this  old  leprous  earth  and  healed  its 
leprous  dwellers ;  not  amid  the  fig-trees  of  Bethany, 
but  under  the  shade  of  the  eternal  palms.  That 
day  shall  be  the  day  of  the  Master's  joy,  as  well  as 
of  ours  ;  he  feasting  with  us,  and  we  with  him  ;  he 
enjoying  our  fellowship,  and  we  his,  for  evermore. 


SERMON  XLIV. 

THE   CHURCH'S  WIDOWHOOD. 

"  And  there  was  a  widow  in  that  city  ;  and  she  came  unto  him,  saying, 
Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary." — Luke  xviii.  3. 

Without  entering  at  length  on  an  exposition  of 
this  parable,  in  either  of  its  aspects,  practical  or 
prophetical,  we  may  say  this  much,  that  it  sets 
before  us,  under  thefigure  of  a  widow, — a  feeble  and 
injured  widow, — the  true  character  and  standing 
of  the  Church  of  Gocl  on  earth,  during  the  present 
age.  In  numbers  she  is  few, — a  mere  election,  a 
gathering  out,  no  more  ;  in  power,  slender  ;  in 
honour,  little  set  by  ;  in  alliances,  little  courted, 
nay,  shunned  ;  in  relative  position,  unfit  to  sway 
the  world's  counsels  ;  in  political  and  social  influ- 
ence, save  as  the  salt  of  the  earth,  incapable  of 
what  man  calls  great  achievements  or  overawing 
combinations,  seeing  she  is  scattered  and  divided 
among  all  kingdoms  ;  and  that,  not  like  some  vast 
network  of  electrical  wires  encompassing  the  globe, 
and  capable,  by  its  union  of  parts,  to  act  with  simul- 
taneous force  upon  the  nations,  but  only  like  the 
separate  dew-drops,  which,  though  many  and  pure, 
and  fitted  to  cheer  the  blossom  on  which  thev  rest, 

870 


the  church's  widowhood.  377 

have  no  power  to  turn  the  rock  into  a  garden,  or 
to  make  the  wilderness  blossom  as  the  rose. 

That  such  is  the  case,  nay,  that  such  must  he 
the  case,  appears  from  such  things  as  these  : — 

(1.)  The  Father  s  purpose  concerning  her. — That 
purpose  has  great  things  in  store  for  her,  in  the 
ages  to  come  ;  but  at  present  her  lot  is  to  be 
weakness,  poverty,  hardship,  and  the  endurance  of 
wrong.  Through  much  tribulation  she  must  enter 
the  kingdom.  It  is  not  the  purpose  of  God  that 
she  should  be  numerous,  or  powerful,  or  honourable ; 
but,  like  her  Head,  disesteemed,  rejected,  despised, 
treated  oftentimes  as  the  offscouring  of  all  things. 
Her  success  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the  extent  to 
which  she  has  been  able  to  overawe,  or  to  attract, 
or  to  dazzle  the  world, — to  disarm  its  enmity,  or  to 
purchase  its  friendship  ;  but  simply,  and  only,  by 
the  manner  in  which  she  has  been  enabled  to  fulfil 
the  Father's  will ;  to  manifest  her  sympathies  with 
the  Father's  purpose  ;  to  be  faithful  to  her  calling 
and  character  ;  to  testify  for  him  whose  blood 
has  bought  her,  and  to  be  separate  from  the  evil 
that  is  in  "  this  present  evil  world." 

(2.)  Her  conformity  to  her  Lord. — He  is  her 
pattern,  not  merely  as  to  character,  but  as  to  the 
whole  course  of  life.  In  him  she  learns  what  her 
lot  on  earth  is  to  be.  He  the  rejected  one,  even 
among  his  own,  she  must  be  rejected  too.  He  the 
hated  one,  she  must  be  hated  too.  Better  treat- 
ment than  he  met  with,  she  is  not  entitled  to 
expect  ;  nor  should  she  wish  to  have.     Union  with 


378  the  church's  widowhood.  - 

him  in  reigning  is  her  hope  ;  union  with  him  in 
suffering  is  her  experience  here.  Conformity  to 
him  in  holy  glory  hereafter  is  what  she  looks  for  ; 
conformity  to  him  in  shame  and  sorrow  now,  is 
what  she  knows  to  be  her  lot.  She  feels  that  she 
could  not  be  the  true  Bride  of  a  suffering  Bride- 
groom, if  her  path  below  were  one  all  smiles  and 
sunshine. 

(3.)  Her  standing  by  faith. — It  is  the  world's 
unbelief  that  so  specially  makes  it  the  world ;  so  it 
is  the  Church's  faith  that  makes  her  what  she  is, 
the  Church.  All  that  she  can  say  for  herself  is 
what  the  apostle  did  for  himself  and  the  saints  of 
his  day,  "We  have  known  and  believed  the  love 
that  God  hath  to  us."  Her  connection  with  the 
testimony  of  God,  with  him  of  whom  it  speaks, 
and  with  the  glory  to  which  it  points,  is  one  simply 
of  faith.  It  was  faith  in  that  record  which  first 
drew  her  out  of  the  world,  and  which  still  keeps 
her  separate  from  it.  As  one  believing  in  a  king- 
dom yet  to  come,  she  shakes  herself  free  from  the 
entanglements  of  time.  She  becomes  a  stranger 
here,  having  no  continuing  city,  but  satisfied  with 
the  tent  of  the  desert,  till  she  reach  the  city  of 
habitation.  The  faith  which  realises  the  unseen 
and  the  eternal,  displaces,  both  in  her  vision  and 
in  her  heart,  the  things  seen  and  temporal. 

(4.)  The  condition  of  the  world  out  of  which  she  is 
called. — It  is  an  evil  world.  It  lieth  in  wickedness  ; 
and  her  calling  is  to  come  out  from  it,  and,  like 
Noah,  to  condemn  it.      All  belonging  to  that  world 


the  church's  WIDOWHOOD.       '  379 

is  evil,  and  what  has  she  to  do  with  it  ?  Satan  is 
its  prince  and  god,  and  what  has  she  to  do  with  him  ? 
It  crucified  her  Lord,  what  can  she  have  to  do  with 
it  ?  Her  mission  is  not  to  transform  the  world  into 
the  Church,  but  to  be  God's  instrument  in  taking 
out  of  it  a  people  for  his  glory.  In  such  a  world, 
how  can  she  be  other  than  a  stranger  ?  In  its 
cities,  how  can  she  be  other  than  a  sojourner  ? 
She  has  nothing  in  common  with  it.  All  is 
uncongenial. 

(5.)  Her  prospects. — She  is  an  heir  of  God,  and 
a  joint  heir  with  Christ  Jesus.  An  everlasting 
kingdom,  an  unfading  crown,  an  eternal  weight  of 
glory, — these  are  her  prospects.  What  has  she 
then  to  do  with  a  world  where  all  these  are 
unrecognised,  nay,  despised  or  disowned  ?  As  the 
Bride  of  Christ,  what  sympathy  can  there  be  in 
her  bosom,  with  the  vanities  of  a  world  so  vain 
as  this  ?  It  doth  not  yet,  indeed,  appear  what 
she  shall  be ;  but  she  knows  that,  when  he 
shall  appear,  she  shall  be  like  him,  for  she  shall  see 
him  as  he  is ;  and  having  this  hope  in  him,  she 
purines  herself,  even  as  he  is  pure. 

The  Church,  then,  is  thus,  of  necessity,  a  widow. 
Hence,  while  the  Spirit  of  God  uses  various  figures 
to  describe  her,  they  all,  more  or  less,  point  to 
some  such  forlorn  and  helpless  condition.  Whether 
she  is  spoken  of  as  a  pilgrim,  or  a  stranger,  or  an 
orphan,  or  a  little  flock,  or  a  lily  amongst  thorns, 
still  the  leading  thought  is  the  same.  In  her 
orphanage,  or  strangership,  or  widowhood,  she  still 


380         "     the  church's  widowhood. 

moves  before  us  as  the  separated,  rejected,  lonely 
one,  in  the  midst  of  an  unfriendly  world,  that  far 
outnumbers  her,  and  that  feels  itself  strangely  in- 
commoded and  made  uncomfortable  by  the  presence 
of  one  who  sets  light  by  all  the  precious  and 
pleasurable  things  of  earth,  having  her  eye  and 
her  heart  fixed  upon  something  more  glorious,  of 
which  the  world  knows  nothing. 

It  is  by  acting  out  her  character,  fully  and  con- 
sistently, that  she  honours  God,  and  bears  witness 
to  Christ,  and  condemns  the  world,  and  testifies 
to  the  glory  of  the  promised  kingdom.  It  is 
thus,  too,  that  she  wins  the  eye  of  the  heedless 
worldling,  pointing  upwards  to  the  incorruptible 
crown,  and  bidding  men  set  their  affection  on  things 
above,  and  seek  their  treasure  and  their  joy  in 
heaven.  It  is  her  widowhood  that  is  her  testimony. 
It  is  her  widow's  weeds,  with  which  she  dare  not 
part,  that  make  known  beyond  mistake,  and  yet 
without  a  voice,  what  she  thinks  of  the  world  and 
the  world's  ways  ;  how  she  disesteems  the  world 
and  the  world's  joys  ;  how  thoroughly  she  has 
broken  off  from  the  world  and  the  world's  com- 
panionships, and  taken  the  true  measure  of  its 
fascinating  gaieties  ;  how  wide  she  deems  the 
difference  between  herself  and  the  children  of 
time ;  how  stedfastly  she  has  set  her  face  towards 
the  kingdom  ;  and  how  completely  the  King  in  his 
beauty  has  absorbed  her  soul,  and  displaced  the 
poor  objects  of  admiration  or  affection  with  which 
the  world  would  seek  to  win  her  steps   back  to 


the  church's  widowhood.  381 

itself,  and  recover  her  heart  to  the  dreams  of  crea- 
ture-love and  creature-beauty.  How  solemnly 
does  her  widow's  cry,  "  Avenge  me  of  mine 
adversary/' — "  How  long,  0  Lord,  how  long  !" — 
proclaim  to  the  world  a  truth  which  it  seems  to 
have  forgotten,  that  its  King  and  Lord  is  ab- 
sent ;  thus  reminding  it  of  the  shade  which  that 
absence  has  thrown  over  creation,  by  telling  of 
the  blank  which  it  has  made  in  her  own  bosom, 
even  though  she  knows  that  she  is  his,  and  that 
he  is  hers. 

If,  then,  the  Church  forsake  this  position,  and 
forego  this  character,  she  abandons  her  calling,  she 
lowers  her  testimony,  she  destroys  her  usefulness, 
she  becomes  unfaithful  to  Christ,  and,  instead  of 
preserving  her  purity,  she  becomes  the  mother  of  a 
spurious  race  of  Christians,  who  are  neither  Christ's 
nor  the  world's  ;  who  think  it  possible  to  make 
the  best  ot  both  worlds  ;  in  whose  features  one 
can  find  few  traces  of  resemblance  to  the  great 
Exemplar  ;  in  whose  constitution  and  habits  one 
can  discover  none  of  those  elements  of  power,  and 
hardness,  and  endurance,  which  primitive  days 
exhibited  ;  in  whose  doings,  or  darings,  or  sacrifices, 
one  can  detect  nothing  of  that  zeal,  and  self-denial, 
and  decision,  which  led  one  of  other  days  to  say, 
"I  count  not  my  life  dear  unto  me,  that  I  may 
finish  my  course  with  joy." 

A  widow's  proper  raiment,  as  well  as  her  true 
ornaments,  are  her  weeds.  Gold,  and  silver,  and 
precious  stones,  she  has  put  off.    They  are  the  sym- 


382  the  church's  widowhood. 

bols  of  mirth,  and  gaiety,  and  triumph ;  and  what 
has  she  to  do  with  these,  in  the  absence  of  her  Lord, 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  world  that  disowns  him  ?  It 
is  in  her  weeds  that  she  passes  along  the  world's 
highway,  as  one  who  has  little  in  common  with  it, 
whose  sympathies  have  all  gone  upwards  to  One 
whom,  having  not  seen,  she  loves.  They  speak  of 
an  absent  Husband.  They  tell  of  faithful  affection 
and  constancy,  as  well  as  of  indifference  to  all  love 
save  that  of  him  whose  memory  she  cherishes,  and 
whose  absence  she  mourns.  They  are  expressive 
of  indifference  to  the  attractive  scenes  and  objects 
of  earth,  not  merely  because  of  their  uncongeniality, 
but  because  they  cannot  be  truly  enjoyed  in  separa- 
tion from  the  Beloved  One. 

A  Ci widow  indeed'  is  thus  described  by  the 
apostle  : — "  She  that  is  a  widow  indeed,  and  deso- 
late, trusteth  in  God,  and  continueth  in  supplica- 
tions and  prayers  night  and  day'  (1  Tim.  v.  5). 
But  a  mere  widow  in  name  is  one  who  "  liveth  in 
pleasure,"  and  is  thus  "  dead  while  she  liveth." 
The  true  Church  of  God  is  the  former  ;  the  false 
church,  the  harlot -bride  of  Satan,  is  the  latter ;  for 
she  openly  repudiates  the  name  of  widow,  while 
she  lays  aside  the  weeds  of  widowhood,  saying,  "  I 
sit  as  a  queen,  and  am  no  widow,  and  shall  see  no 
sorrow  ;"  decking  herself  all  the  while  "in  gold,  and 
silver,  and  precious  stones,  and  pearls,  and  fine 
linen,  and  purple,  and  silk,  and  scarlet"  (Rev. 
xviii.  12). 

This  contrast  between  these  two  not  only  shews 


•  the  church's  widowhood.  383 

us  the  right  standing  of  the  one  church,  and  the 
false  and  faithless  character  of  the  other,  but  it 
intimates  this,  that  one  of  the  church's  most  subtile 
temptations  will  be  to  lose  sight  of,  if  not  to  disown, 
her  widowhood,  and  to  live,  and  act,  and  speak,  as 
if  she  were  well  content  with  the  world  as  it  is, 
and  had  no  consciousness  of  any  blank,  either  within 
her  or  without. 

The  world  loves  not  the  faithful  widow,  and 
would  fain  seduce  her  to  a  second  marriage, — a 
marriage  with  itself.  Decked  in  costly  array,  it 
would  admire  her,  and  give  her  its  willing  fellow- 
ship. But  dressed  only  in  the  widow's  mournful 
garb,  it  cannot  tolerate  her.  Her  faithfulness  to 
her  Lord  condemns  it.  Her  seclusion  and  separa- 
tion rebuke  it.  Her  continuing  in  supplication  and 
prayers  night  and  day  it  cannot  away  with.  Her 
wistful  eye,  glancing  eagerly  upwards,  as  if  to  see 
the  Unseen,  and  greet  the  absent  One,  is  a  con- 
tinual reproof.  The  widow's  cry  sorely  disturbs 
the  world's  peace,  and,  ringing  nightly  through 
its  glittering  halls  of  pleasure,  turns  all  its  music 
into  discord. 

Nor  less  does  Satan  dislike  the  widow's  weeds 
and  the  widow's  cry.  For  they  remind  him  that 
his  day  is  short,  and  that  he  who  is  to  bind  him 
in  chains,  and  cast  him  out  of  his  dominions,  will 
soon  be  here.  They  torment  him  before  his  time. 
They  proclaim  the  doom  of  his  harlot-spouse,  who 
sits  now  as  queen,  in  that  "  one  hour"  when  deso- 
lation shall  overwhelm  her  (Rev.  xviii.  19).     They 


384      •  the  church's  widowhood. 

point  to  the  glory  of  the  now  widowed  church,  in 
that  day,  when,  instead  of  her  attire  of  sackcloth, 
she  shall  be  arrayed  in  the  "  fine  linen,  clean 
and  white,"  and,  with  her  long-parted  Husband 
restored  to  her  embrace,  she  shall  be  exalted  to 
the  sovereignty  of  that  very  world  where  she  has 
been  treated  as  "  the  off-scouring  of  all  things." 

The  hostility  of  the  world  and  its  prince  to  the 
Church  of  God  is  not  new.  It  is  the  ancient  feud 
between  the  two  "  seeds"  (Gen.  iii.  15),  which,  in 
successive  forms,  and  with  varying  intensity,  each 
age  has  evolved.  Compromise  or  inconsistency 
may  modify  this  warfare  ;  but  ended  it  cannot  be, 
save  in  the  extinction  of  the  one  seed  or  the  other. 
The  world  hopes  to  absorb  the  Church,  and  so  to 
terminate  the  variance  ;  but  this  absorption  is  what 
the  true  Church  so  greatly  dreads,  for  by  it  she  loses 
and  her  rival  gains  everything.  It  is  an  absorption, 
the  root  of  which  is  unbelief,  and  the  development 
of  which  is,  at  the  best,  the  form  of  godliness 
without  its  power. 


SERMON  XLV. 

THE  CHURCH'S   WIDOWHOOD. 

u  And  there  was  a  widow  in  that  city ;  and  she  came  unto  him,  saying, 
Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary." — Luke  xviii.  3. 

Most  unweariedly  has  Satan  sought,  age  after  age, 
to  silence  the  widowed  Church's  cry,  to  muffle  her 
voice,  to  seduce  her  into  unfaithfulness,  and  to 
persuade  her  to  part  with  her  weeds  of  widow- 
hood. That  he  has  never  wholly  succeeded  we 
know ;  for  a  remnant,  at  least,  has  always  been 
found  who  abode  faithful,  though  sometimes 
clothed  in  sackcloth,  in  addition  to  the  widow's 
raiment,  and  sometimes  with  that  sackcloth 
stained  with  blood.  Yet  too  frequently  has  he 
succeeded  in  part, — to  an  extent  which  may  well 
alarm  us,  and  lead  to  self-questionings  of  the 
most  searching  kind.  He  succeeded  in  a  measure 
with  the  church  of  Ephesus,  so  that  her  Lord  was 
constrained  to  address  her  as  one  who  had  left  her 
first  love.  He  succeeded  still  more  with  Sardis,  till 
only  a  few  names  were  left  which  had  not  defiled 
their  garments.  Even  more  sadly  did  he  succeed 
with  Laodicea  ;  bringing  her  into  such  a  condition 
of  evil  that  she  was  on  the  very  edge  of  entire 

rejection  ;  elating  her  with  such  thoughts  of  self- 
385  Bb 


386  the  church's  widowhood. 

sufficiency  and  wealth  as  to  make  her  wholly  lose 
sight  of  her  estate  of  lowly  widowhood  ;  decking 
her  with  the  world's  gay  attire,  and  leading  her  to 
exchange  the  widow's  cry  for  the  world's  song,  "  I 
am  rich  and  increased  in  goods,  and  have  need  of 
nothing."  But  the  full  measure  of  his  success  is 
only  seen  in  Babylon.  In  her,  seduction  has  been 
triumphant,  and  not  a  vestige  either  of  the  widow's 
weeds  or  of  the  widow's  cry  can  be  found  in  her. 
The  temptation  which  proved  so  unsuccessful  in 
the  Lord  has  succeeded  in  her, — the  offer  of  the 
world's  kingdoms.  With  these,  Satan  has  bewitched 
and  beguiled  her.  For  these,  she  has  forsaken  her 
Lord,  and  espoused  herself  to  the  god  of  this  world, 
who  satiates  her  to  her  heart's  content  with  the 
carnal  abundance  of  his  kingdom,  so  that  she  is  no 
longer  a  widow,  but  a  queen  ;  no  longer  desolate, 
but  "  glorifying  herself,  and  living  deliciously  ;"  no 
longer  poorly  or  plainly  clothed,  but  decked  in 
purple,  and  pearls,  and  gold  ;  no  longer  crying,  in 
her  helplessness,  "  Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary," 
but  ruling  over  the  nations,  nay,  giving  them  to 
drink  of  the  golden  cup  of  her  uncleanness,  nay, 
seducing  even  the  kings  of  the  earth  to  pay  her  suit 
and  service,  intoxicating  them  with  the  pleasures 
of  her  unlawful  love. 

Between  the  state  of  backsliding  Ephesus  and 
that  of  apostate  Babylon,  there  is  a  mighty  differ- 
ence ;  and  yet  these  churches  reveal  but  different 
degrees  of  the  same  evil.  Ephesus  represents  the 
beginning,  Babylon  the  end,  of  the  downward  course, 


the  church's  widowhood.  387 

between  which  extremities  there  exist  many  stages 
and  gradations  ;  but  the  type  of  evil  is,  to  a  certain 
extent,  the  same  in  all.  In  every  one  of  them  we 
see  Satan  laying  snares  for  the  Church,  beguiling 
her  out  of  her  widow's  seclusion,  making  her  dis- 
satisfied with  her  poverty  and  weakness,  persuad- 
ing her  to  put  off  her  weeds,  and  conform  to  the 
gay  attire  of  the  multitude  around. 

This,  then,  is  one  of  the  Church's  special  dangers. 
Such  is  Satan's  object  in  assailing  her.  Such  the 
small  beginnings  of  apostasy,  and  such  the  fatal 
end  !  In  ways  most  subtle,  by  degrees  quite  im- 
perceptible, she  is  persuaded  to  leave  her  first  love ; 
and  then,  having  done  that,  she  is  ready  for  any 
amount  of  backsliding. 

Is  it  not  thus  that  Satan  is  spreading  his  fasci- 
nations for  the  Church  in  our  day  ?  Fain  would 
he  draw  her  out  of  her  seclusion  into  the  gay  whirl 
of  earth.  He  spares  no  art  to  tempt  her  to  act 
inconsistently  with  her  widow's  character,  and  to 
become  unfaithful  to  her  widow's  vow.  His  object 
is  to  bring  her  down  from  her  high  standing  as  the 
Church  of  God,  holy  and  beloved,  separated  unto 
Christ,  and  set  on  high  by  his  redeeming  power  ; 
to  draw  her  off  from  that  consecrated  ground  which 
her  Lord  had  intended  her  to  occupy,  that  she  may 
mingle  with  the  bustling  crowds  of  the  world's 
highway,  or  take  her  place  in  its  assemblies  of 
pleasure  and  revelry. 

In  carrying  on  his  seductions,  he  makes  use  of 
various  appliances.     He  begins  with  objects  which 


388  the  church's  widowhood. 

are  in  themselves  lawful  ;  he  goes  on  with  those 
which  are  suspicious  and  questionable  ;  and  he  ends 
with  those  which  are  positively  sinful  and  pernicious. 

He  approaches  the  Church  subtilely  and  with  fair 
words,  as  an  angel  of  light.  How  excellent  and 
noble  is  science, — how  fitted  to  exalt  the  soul,  and 
to  feed  its  immortal  longings  !  Most  true.  Nor 
ought  we  ever  to  say  onewrord  to  the  disparagement 
or  depreciation  of  science.  But  may  it  not  be  too 
absorbing  ?  May  it  not  displace  higher  things  ? 
May  it  not  lead  to  a  too  exclusive  cultivation  of 
the  understanding,  and  so  nourish  intellectual  pride, 
and  seduce  the  soul  into  the  mere  wrisdom  of  this 
world  ?  The  Church  is  to  be  on  her  guard  ;  not 
against  science,  but  against  the  way  in  which 
science  has  been  used  to  dazzle  or  bewilder  the 
Church's  eye,  and  so  withdraw  her  affection  and 
her  gaze  from  the  things  above. 

Or,  again,  he  comes  to  her  applauding  the  world's 
literature,  and  exhibiting  it  to  her  in  all  the  fasci- 
nations of  poetry  and  romance.  Let  us  not  dis- 
credit literature,  or  treat  it  all  as  alike  unprofitable. 
But  let  us  beware  of  its  enchantments.  Let  us  see 
•that  even  in  its  lawful  parts  it  does  not  come  be- 
tween us  and  the  vision  of  the  eternal  kingdom, 
or  lead  us  astray  with  the  enticing  words  of  man's 
wisdom.  And  as  to  those  parts  of  it  that  appeal 
to  the  sentiment,  or  the  passions,  or  the  lusts  of 
our  nature,  which  are  mere  gratifications  of  our 
love  of  pleasure,  such  as  the  novel,  or  the  idle  song, 
or  the  loose  opera  ; — how  can  we  touch,  or  taste, 


the  church's  widowhood.  389 

or  handle  ?     What  has  a  heaven-born  soul  to  do 
with  earthly  vanities  like  these  ?     What  has  the 
widowed  spouse   of  Christ,    mourning  her  Lord's 
absence,   and  longing  for  his  return,  to  do  with 
scenes  and  sounds  such  as  these,  which  feed  the 
flesh,  which  eat  out  the  very  core  of  faith,  which 
rekindle  fires  that   should  be  for  ever  quenched, 
and  refasten  links  that  should  be  for  ever  broken  ? 
Or,  farther,  he  comes  to  her  with  the  more  direct 
blandishments  of  pleasure  as  his  snares.   "  What  sin, 
what  harm  in  the  dance,   or  the  theatre  or  the 
assembly  ?"    And  how  often  is  he  at  once  responded 
to, — "  Yes,  what  sin,  what  harm  in  these  ?     May 
a  man  not  be  a  Christian  and  yet  enjoy  these  ?" 
This  would  we  say  in  reply.     In  primitive  days  no 
man  wonld  have  thought  of  claiming  the  name  of 
Christian  who  enjoyed  them  ;  and  if  a   man  can 
think  himself  a  Christian  while  enjoying  these,  he 
must  have  misunderstood  the  character  of  a  fol- 
lower of  Christ  ;  he  must  have  forgotten  the  Lord's 
own  awful  words, — "  If  any  man  will  come  after 
me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up  his  cross, 
and  follow  me ; '    and  he  must  have  set  aside  the 
apostle's  solemn  exhortation,  "  Love  not  the  world, 
neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world  :  if  anv 
man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not 
in  him."     If  any  say,  u-  This  is  an  hard  saying,  who 
can  hear  it  ?  "  we  answer,  Is  it  harder  than  that, 
"  She  that  liveth  in   pleasure  is  dead  while  she 
liveth  ?  "     Is  it  harder  than  that,  "  The  friendship 
of  the  world  is  enmity  to  God  ?  "     Is  it  harder 


390  the  church's  widowhood. 

than  that,  "Come  out,  and  be  ye  separate,  and 
touch  not  the  unclean  thing  ? '  Is  it  harder  than 
that,  u  Ye  cannot  drink  the  cup  of  the  Lord  and 
the  cup  of  devils  ;  ye  cannot  be  partaker  of  the 
Lord's  table,  and  the  table  of  devils  ?  " 

Besides,  what  congeniality  can  one  whose  cha- 
racteristic is  that  of  widowhood,  and  orphanage, 
and  stranger  ship,  find  in  such  scenes  as  these  ? 
Laughter  and  revelling  are  for  the  whole-hearted 
and  the  sorrowless;  how  suit  they  the  widow's 
weeds  and  the  widow's  cry  ?  If  the  Church  of 
God  wTould  mingle  in  such  scenes,  she  must  first 
renounce  her  widowhood ;  for  how  strange,  how 
spectral,  wrould  be  the  entrance  of  widowhood,  in 
the  reality  of  grief,  as  well  as  in  the  outward  garb 
of  mourning,  into  such  haunts  of  hollow  mirth  as 
the  gay  world  presents!  How  startling,  nay,  how 
displeasing  and  disturbing,  would  be  the  sombre 
hue  of  the  widow's  raiment  in  that  blazing  hall  of 
midnight, 

"  That  dazzling  mass  of  artificial  light 
That  shews  all  things,  but  nothing  as  they  are." 

Into  such  uncongenialities,  how  is  it  possible 
for  the  Church  of  God  to  enter  ?  With  in- 
congruities and  inconsistencies  like  these,  she 
can  have  no  sympathy.  If  she  understands  her 
own  character  and  calling,  she  must  see  that  she 
has  a  peculiar  path  to  pursue, — a  path  which 
cannot  admit  of  any  such  compromise  between 
the    things  of  heaven    and   the   things   of  earth. 


the  church's  -widowhood.  391 

She,  like  her  Lord,  is  from  above  ;  the  world,  like 
its  prince,  is  from  beneath, — and  how  can  there 
be  an  alliance  between  parties,  whose  interests, 
sympathies,  hopes,  joys,  are  so  far  asunder  ? 
How  can  the  Church  of  God  descend  from  the  high 
eminence  to  which  she  has  been  lifted  up,  and 
tread  again  that  enchanted  ground  which  she  pro- 
fesses to  have  forsaken  for  ever  ?  Can  she  lose 
sight  of  her  calling  ?  Can  she  forget  her  widow- 
hood ?  Can  she  see  no  crime  in  being  unfaithful 
to  her  absent  Lord,  and  unjust  to  the  memory  of 
one  who  has  loved  her  so  well  ?  Can  she  think 
of  imitating  (even  in  spirit,  or  for  a  day)  the  apos- 
tate Church,  Satan's  harlot  bride,  and  saying,  "  I 
sit  as  a  queen,  and  am  no  widow,  and  shall  see  no 
sorrow  ?" 

The  god  of  this  world  is  doing  his  utmost,  in  these 
last  days,  to  ensnare  the  Church,  to  seduce  her  into 
worldliness,  to  draw  down  her  eye  from  the  hea- 
venly glory,  to  silence  her  cry,  to  induce  her  to 
drop  her  widow's  raiment,  and  if  not  altogether  to 
identify  herself  with  the  world,  at  least  to  be  less 
peculiar,  less  singular  in  her  walk,  less  solemn  in 
her  testimony  against  the  "  fashion  of  this  world," 
the  "things  that  perish  with  the  using,"  "  the  lust 
of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of 
life." 

Shall  he  succeed  ?  Shall  his  sophistry  prevail  ? 
Shall  his  appeals  to  all  that  is  best  in  the  natural 
man  be  met  with  acquiescence  on  the  part  of  the 
saints  of  God  ?     Shall  his  arguments  and  wily  flat- 


392  THE  church's  widowhood. 

teries,  addressed  so  skilfully  to  our  love  of  natural 
beauty,  wisdom,  goodness,  truth,  be  yielded  to,  so 
that  we  shall  give  up  our  distinctiveness  as  the 
called  of  God,  and  the  heirs  of  his  kingdom  ? 
Shall  he  persuade  us  to  be  less  strict,  less 
holy,  less  heavenly,  with  less  of  the  sorrowing 
widow  in  our  deportment,  and  more  of  the  crowned 
queen  ? 

Shall  we  resist,  or  shall  we  )ield?  Shall  we 
hold  fast  our  profession,  or  shall  we  fling  it  aside  ? 
Shall  we  try  to  seize  a  portion  here,  or  shall 
we  be  content  to  wait  in  faith,  until  the  Lord 
return  ? 

Surely  this  is  a  question  for  the  age, — a  question 
for  the  Church  of  God, — a  question  for  every  child 
of  the  kingdom.  It  is  a  question,  too,  for  those 
who  are  still  wholly  of  the  earth  :  "  Will  ye  cling 
to  the  earth;  and  what  will  that  earth  to  which 
you  cling  do  for  you  ?"  It  is  a  question  for  those 
who  think  it  possible  to  be  both  lovers  of  God  and 
lovers  of  pleasure :  "  Will  ye  try  to  reconcile  wThat 
is  irreconcileable  ?  Is  not  God  enough  without 
the  world, — is  not  Christ  enough  without  its  plea- 
sures ?"  It  is  a  question  for  the  anxious  and  the 
earnest :  "  Will  ye  not  decide, — will  ye  waver,  will 
ye  halt,  will  ye  try  something  less  than  an  entire 
surrender  of  the  whole  man  to  God  ?"  It  is  a  ques- 
tion for  the  Christian  :  "  Will  you  be  less  than  your 
name  implies, — less  than  a  child  of  heaven,  less 
than  an  heir  of  God,  and  a  joint  heir  with  Christ  ?" 
It  is  by  faith  you  stand.     It  was  the  belief  of  God's 


the  church's  widowhood.  393 

free  love,  as  manifested  in  the  cross  of  his  Son,  that 
made  you  what  you  are ;  and  if  that  faith  has  any 
meaning,  it  means  that  you  are  no  longer  of  the 
world,  that  your  treasure  is  above,  that  your  in- 
heritance is  not  here,  and  that  you  are  waiting,  in 
patient  love  and  hope,  amid  weariness  and  buffet- 
ing and  trouble,  for  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought 
unto  you  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ. 


SERMON   XLVL 

THE    WORLD'S    ORACLES. 
"The  idols  have  spoken  vanity." — Zech.  x.  2. 

There  are  not  many  who  think  for  themselves  ; 
and  even  those  who  are  reckoned  to  do  so,  depend 
for  the  materials  of  thinking  upon  what  they  hear, 
or  see,  or  touch.  In  the  things  of  God  this  must 
be  so,  much  more  than  in  others.  It  is  in  hearing 
him  that  we  are  furnished  with  materials  for  think- 
ing rightly  about  him.  "  Faith  cometh  by  hearing, 
and  hearing  by  the  word  of  God."  God's  place  is 
to  speak,  and  ours  is  to  listen.  He  expects  us  to 
listen  to  him,  for  he  has  a  right  to  speak  ;  and  we 
know  that,  if  we  do  not,  wc  are  sure  to  think 
wrong  concerning  himself  and  his  ways  ;  concern- 
ing both  good  and  evil. 

But  we  do  not  like  this.  It  is  irksome  to  be 
always  in  the  attitude  of  listeners  ;  at  least,  of 
listeners  to  God.  We  prefer  guessing,  or  specu- 
lating, or  reasoning.  Or,  if  we  find  that  we  must 
have  recourse  to  some  authority  beyond  ourselves, 
we  betake  ourselves  to  any  pretender  to  wisdom, 
— and,  above  all,  to  any  one  who  professes  to  be 
the  representative  of  the  invisible  God,  and  to  speak 
in  his  name.     Hence  the  Gentiles  resorted  to  their 

394 


the  world's  oracles.  395 


(C 


oracles/'  and  the  apostate  Jews  to  their  "  witch- 
crafts/' and  to  private  oracles,  or  household  gods, 
called  "  Teraphim,"  set  up  in  imitation  of  the  great 
public  oracle,  the  Urim  and  Thummim,  through 
which  God  spoke  to  them  in  his  holy  place.  It  is 
to  this  that  Zechariah  refers,  "  The  idols  '  (Tera- 
phim)  "have  spoken  vanity'  (x.  2).  They  whom 
you  consult  as  the  depositories  of  divine  wisdom, 
who  pretend  to  guide  you  and  to  utter  truth,  have 
spoken  vanity  ;  they  have  cheated  you  with  lies. 

Such  was  Israel's  history.  They  trusted  in 
faithless  oracles.  They  became  the  dupes  of  those 
to  whom  they  had  come  for  guidance  in  the  day 
of  perplexity.  They  had  grieved  away  the  voice 
that  spoke  to  them  by  the  jewelled  breastplate, 
and  they  had  betaken  themselves  to  other  voices 
that  only  misled  and  befooled  them.  Their  Tera- 
phim  spoke  vanity. 

This  has  been  man's  history  too,  as  well  as 
Israel's.  He  has  chosen  another  counsellor  instead 
of  God  ;  it  may  be  the  Church,  or  reason,  or  public 
opinion.  He  has  betaken  himself  to  some  oracle  ; 
he  has  listened  to  its  utterances  ;  it  has  cheated 
him  with  words  of  vanity  ;  and  its  divinations 
have  been  as  the  treacherous  staff,  which  not  only 
breaks  under  the  weight  of  the  traveller,  but 
pierces  his  hand  as  he  leans  on  it. 

Poor  world  !  such  is  thy  story.  Misplaced 
confidence,  disappointment,  darkness  ;  the  blind 
following  the  blind,  till  one  pit  receives  both  the 
leader  and  the  led  ! 


o 


96  the  world's  oracles. 


The  world's  Teraphim  have  not  been  few  ;  nor 
has  their  authority  been  either  weak  or  transient. 
They  have  swayed  millions  of  destinies ;  not  always 
consciously,  on  the  side  either  of  the  speaker  or 
the  listener,  but  still  irresistibly.  There  is  "  public 
opinion/'  that  mysterious  oracle,  whose  shrine  is 
nowhere,  but  the  echoes  of  whose  voice  is  every- 
where.  No  Hindoo  ever  crouched  before  his  idol 
with  more  of  submissiveness  than  do  men,  calling 
themselves  enlightened,  cringe  before  the  shadowy 
altar  of  this  "  unknown  god," — nay,  of  this  Moloeh, 
through  whose  fires  has  been  made  to  pass  many  a 
tortured  conscience  that  would  fain  have  sided  with 
God  and  with  truth,  but  dared  not,  lest  it  should 
stand  alone.  But,  besides  this  idol,  or  oracle,  of 
public  opinion,  there  is  the  standard  of  established 
custom, — schools  of  literature  and  philosophy,  or 
theology  ;  and  there  is  what  is  called  the  spirit  of 
the  times.  Nay,  there  is  sometimes  the  idol  of 
personal  friendships,  or  of  admired  authors,  or  of 
revered  teachers.  What  havoc  do  these  often  make 
of  consciences !  How  they  mislead  and  pervert  ! 
How  subtilely  do  they  work  in  drawing  the  con- 
fidence away  from  God,  and  in  setting  up  other 
standards  of  truth  and  holiness  than  his  word  and 
law ! 

Then  let  us  mark  on  what  points  these  Tera- 
phim mislead  us.  They  misrepresent  the  real  end 
and  aim  of  life,  assuring  us  that  the  glory  of  the 
God  who  made  us  cannot  be  that  end,  inasmuch 
as  that  is  something  quite  transcendental,  something 


the  world's  oracles.  397 

altogether  beyond  our  reach,  or  our  reason,  or  our 
sympathies.  They  give  doubtful,  often  delusive, 
answers  to  such  questions  as  these,  "  What  is 
truth  ?  what  is  happiness  ?  what  is  holiness  ?"  In 
regard  to  these  things,  most  certainly,  the  world's 
idols  have  spoken  vanity.  We  can  give  no  credit 
to  their  utterances.  He  who  trusts  himself  to  their 
guidance  will  go  utterly  astray.  He  will  miss  the 
very  things  he  is  seeking.  He  will  not  get  hold 
of  truth  ;  he  will  come  short  of  happiness  ;  and,  in- 
stead of  holiness,  he  will  become  satisfied  with  some 
artificial  standard  of  moral' character  which  man 
has  set  up  for  himself. 

But  how  is  it  thus  ?  Wiry  are  men  thus  misled 
and  befooled  ?  They  have  no  confidence  in  God 
himself ;  nor  have  they  learned  to  say,  "Let  God 
be  true,  and  every  man  a  liar."  They  seek  not 
the  Holy  Spirit,nor  submit  themselves  to  him 
as  their  Teacher.  They  look  askance  at  the  Bible, 
as  if  there  were  some  danger  in  making  too  much 
of  it,  or  as  if  it  were  only  one  out  of  the  many 
standards  by  which  we  are  to  measure  ourselves 
and  our  opinions  ;  nay,  as  if,  in  these  days,  there 
was  so  much  in  the  Bible  of  what  is  obsolete  and 
un suited  to  an  age  like  this,  that,  were  it  not  for 
some  traditional  reverence  for  that  book,  and  ad- 
miration for  its  beauties,  it  might  in  a  great 
measure  be  set  aside.  Besides,  men  do  not  like 
the  teaching  that  they  get  from  God  and  his  word. 
It  does  not  suit  their  tastes.  They  do  not  relish 
it  at  all.       Hence   they  choose   the   prophets    of 


e 


398  THE  WORLDS  oracles. 

smooth  things,  the  "Teraphim"  that  utter  lies 
and  vanity.  "These  be  thy  gods,  0  Israel." 
These  are  the  world's  oracles.  As  for  God,  and 
his  Spirit,  and  his  book,  they  say,  as  the  king 
of  Israel  did  of  Micaiah,  "  I  hate  him,  for  h 
doth  not  prophesy  good  concerning  me,  but  evil 
(1  Kings  xxii.  8). 

But  how  do  these  Teraphim  speak  their  vanities  ? 
They  do  not  need  to  do  so  by  uttering  gross  error. 
Nay,  it  is  seldom  that  they  try  this,  though,  un- 
doubtedly, error  is  the  real  terminus  at  which  they 
aim.  But  they  mingle  the  true  and  the  false  to- 
gether :  so  that  the  true  is  neutralized  by  the  false, 
and  the  false  is  adorned  and  recommended  by  the 
true.  The  fair  fragments  of  the  latter  hang  like 
gems  around  the  former,  making  it  comely  and 
attractive.  With  what  seductive  persuasiveness  do 
these  counsellors  of  the  world,  these  oracles  of  the 
race,  win  the  ear  of  men  !  They  point  to  the  great 
men  who  have  pursued  paths  very  far  asunder  from 
those  who  stickle  so  sternly  for  adherence  to  the 
naked  word  of  God.  They  bid  us  listen  to  the 
world's  philosophers  and  poets, — to  Kant,  to  Goethe, 
or  Coleridge,  or  Wordsworth.  They  ask  us  to 
take  the  experience  of  these  mighty  men  of  mind 
or  song,  and  to  abjure  the  narrowness  and  one- 
sidedness  into  which  we  shall  otherwise  be  shrivelled 
up,  if  we  become  men  of  one  book,  even  though 
that  book  should  be  the  Bible, — men  of  one  school, 
even  though  that  school  should  be  that  of  the 
apostle  Paul. 


the  world's  oracles.  399 

And  why  do  these  oracles  speak  thus  ?  They 
are  fond  of  speaking,  and  they  like  to  be  listened 
to.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  consulted  as  an  oracle, 
and  to  be  quoted  as  an  authority.  They  have  no 
high  or  sure  standard  of  their  own,  and  hence  they 
can  only  speak  according  to  their  own  foolishness. 
"  They  know  not,  neither  do  they  understand  ; 
they  walk  on  in  darkness."  They  u  grope  for  the 
wall  as  the  blind"  (Isa.  lix.  10)  ;  and  they  who  set 
their  trust  on  them  must  be  content  to  spend  their 
lives  in  doing  the  same. 

The  world  has  always  had  its  oracles,  its  Tera- 
phim,  its  Dii  minores  et  majores.  By  them  it  has 
been  guided  in  the  strange  career  of  separation 
from  God,  which  the  apostle  calls  "  the  course  of 
this  world"  (Eph.  ii.  2).  They  have  helped  to 
mould  the  world,  and  to  make  it  what  it  is  ;  and 
in  its  turn  it  has,  in  large  measure,  moulded  them 
and  made  them  what  they  are.  For  "  the  god  of 
this  world"  is  the  god  of  these  gods,  the  oracle  of 
these  oracles.  "The  spirit  that  worketh  in  the 
children  of  disobedience"  (Eph.  ii.  2),  is  the  spirit 
which  speaks  through  these  oracles,  and  which  is, 
by  means  of  these  servants  of  his,  imbuing  the  world 
more  thoroughly  with  his  own  falsehood  and  un- 
holiness,  conforming  it  more  entirely,  age  after  age, 
to  his  own  image,  and  withdrawing  it  more  widely 
from  the  living  Jehovah,  the  God  and  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Formerly,  it  was  more  as  "the  ruler  of  the  dark- 
ness of  this  world"  that  Satan  wrought  and  spoke ; 


400  the  world's  oracles. 

now,  it  is  more  as  an  angel  of  light,  into  which  he 
has  transformed  himself  (2  Cor.  xi.  14),  that  he 
may  ensnare  the  more,  nay,  deceive,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, the  very  elect.  Thus,  that  which  God  calls 
"a  wonderful  and  horrible  thing"  has  come  to  pass  ; 
"  the  prophets  prophesy  falsely,  and  the  priests 
bear  rule  by  their  means  ;  and  my  people  love  to 
have  it  so"  (Jer.  v.  30,  31).  No  wonder  that  he 
should  ask,  ' (  What  will  ye  do  in  the  end  thereof  ?" 
It  is  as  the  angel  of  light  that  Satan  is  now  the 
world's  oracle,  or  rather,  the  inspirer  of  its  oracles. 
He  has  changed  his  voice  as  well  as  his  garb  and 
aspect.  He  has  hidden  his  grossness,  and  modified 
his  language  to  suit  the  change.  He  has  veiled  his 
sensualism  under  the  guise  of  poetry,  and  thrown 
the  mantle  of  philosophy  over  the  offensive  naked- 
ness of  atheism.  He  is  still  an  atheist  with  the 
scoffer;  a  wanton  with  the  lewd;  a  blasphemer 
with  the  profane.  For  he  changes  not.  But,  to 
disgust  as  few  as  possible,  and  to  entangle  in  his 
net  the  many  who  shrink  from  alLopen  grossness, 
he  has  set  up  a  more  refined  system  of  worldliness, 
of  which  the  watchwords  are,  "  Harmless  amuse- 
ments," u  Innocent  gaiety,"  "  Intellectual  feasts 
and  healthful  sports,"  and  such  like.  Now,  there  are 
amusements  that  are  harmless ;  but  are  these  in  the 
theatre  or  opera  ?  There  is  gaiety  that  is  innocent ; 
but  is  this  to  be  found  in  the  ball-room,  and  in  the 
gidd}'  whirl  of  the  waltz  ?  There  are  sports  which 
arc  healthful ;  but  are  these  on  the  turf  or  in  the 
ring?     There  are  feasts  of  the  intellect;  but  are 


the  world's  oracles.  401 

these  contained  only  in  the  light  novel  or  the  loose 
song?  Are  they  to  be  found  in  the  lecture-rooms 
of  those  who  cleverly  substitute  philosophy  for 
faith,  reason  for  revelation,  man's  wisdom  for  God's ; 
who  prove  to  us  that,  though  the  Bible  may  con- 
tain the  thoughts  of  God,  it  does  not  speak  his 
ivords;  who  artfully  would  reason  us  into  the  belief 
that  sin  is  not  guilt,  but  only  a  disease,  a  mere 
moral  epidemic;  who  maintain,  with  the  philo- 
sophic Buddhist,  that  incarnation,  not  death,  is  the 
basis  of  divine  reconciliation;  that  the  tendencies 
of  creaturehood  are  all  upward,  not  downward; 
that  forgiveness  is  not  a  thing  needed  by  any  one, 
seeing  condemnation  can  have  no  place  under  the 
government  of  a  God  of  love;  who  affirm  that, 
though  the  love  of  God  leads  us  to  conclude  the 
existence  of  a  heaven,  yet  that  his  righteousness 
does  not  by  any  means  infer  the  necessity  either 
for  a  judgment  or  a  hell. 

As  an  angel  of  light,  all  his  snares  and  sophistries 
partake,  more  or  less,  of  light.  He  does  not  appeal 
directly  to  our  lusts,  but  to  our  love  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  bright.  He  does  not  take  his  stand  upon 
our  natural  hatred  of  God,  but  upon  our  thirst  for 
truth  and  knowledge.  By  such  indirect  methods 
he  beguiles  us  as  effectually  into  error  and  sin ;  nay, 
seduces  us  as  surely  into  apostasy  from  God,  as 
when  he  ensnared  our  first  mother,  under  the  pro- 
mise of  wisdom.  "  Ye  shall  be  as  God,"  he  says 
still; — independent  of  all  other  beings  and  wills, 

thinking  what  you  please,  enjoying  what  you  desire, 

c  c 


402  the  world's  oracles. 

and  taking   in  the  whole    round  of  indulgences, 
physical  and  intellectual,  at  your  will. 

As  an  angel  of  light  he  instructs  his  oracles  (as 
we  see  in  the  journalism  of  the  age)  to  appeal  to 
men's  natural  humanity,  that  so  he  may  get  them 
to  substitute  this  for  union  through  the  blood  of 
the  covenant,  and  brotherhood  in  the  Son  of  God. 
He  instructs  his  oracles  to  address  themselves  to 
our  intuitions  of  virtue  and  uprightness,  that  he 
may  by  these  supplant  holiness,  and  conformity 
to  the  image  of  "  the  Word  made  flesh."  He  in- 
structs them  to  press  home  amendment  of  life  and 
the  relinquishment  of  all  offensive  evil,  that  he 
may  utterly  efface  the  idea  of  being  "  born  again," 
of  the  necessity  of  "conversion,"  and  of  the 
Holy  Spirit's  indwelling  fulness,  as  the  one  true 
source  of  all  that  God  calls  "  religion."  Thus 
he  "  blinds  the  minds  of  them  which  believe  not 
lest  the  light  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  Christ, 
who  is  the  image  of  God,  should  shine  into  them" 
(2  Cor.  iv.  4). 

Tutored  by  this  angel  of  light  these  oracles  of 
earth  speak  of  the  "  majesty  of  mind  profound ;"  or 
of  "the  splendid  might  of  mind,"  in  all  the  elation 
of  intellectual  pride.  They  speak  loftily  of  "  the 
world's  vast  lie,"  of  "earth's  falsehoods,"  of  the 
age's  "  shams,"  all  the  while  complacently  congra- 
tulating themselves  that  they  have  found  their  way 
out  of  these  unrealities.  They  think  to  dig  through 
the  husk  into  the  kernel  of  all  religions,  and,  out 
of  their  uncertain  speculations,  to  construct  a  new 


THE  world's  oracles.  403 

theology.  "  Attempt  the  high,"  they  say;  "seek 
oat  the  soul's  bright  path  ;" 

"  Upon  the  summit  of  each  mountain-thought 
"Worship  thou  God." 

They  spurn  the  belief  that  this  lapsed  creation  is 
wholly  evil;  exulting  in  its  self- rectifying,  self- 
regenerating  power. 

"  The  universal  solvent  of  disease 
Still  bounds  through  nature's  veins." 

It  is  from  Satan  as  an  angel  of  light,  and  from 
his  oracles  as  the  reflections  of  that  light,  that  we 
have  most  to  dread.  The  disguises  which  he  is 
putting  on  are  fatally  seductive.  The  lengths  to 
which  he  goes,  in  pretended  reverence  for  religion ; 
the  subtle  skill  which  he  has  put  forth  in  beautify- 
ing what  is  sensual,  in  refining  what  is  carnal,  in 
purifying  what  is  gross  : — the  artful  way  in  which 
he  has  mixed  up  the  true  and  the  false,  the  lawful 
and  the  unlawful,  the  certain  and  the  uncertain, 
the  earthly  and  the  heavenly,  the  human  and  the 
divine ;  the  marvellous  cunning  he  has  displayed  in 
infusing  a  sort  of  religious  element  into  what  is 
meant  to  be  the  counteractive  of  religion  ;  in 
throwing  a  religious  hue  over  subjects  and  scenes, 
intended  by  him  to  withdraw  the  heart  from  God ; 
the  sophistry  by  which  he  has  succeeded  in  substi- 
tuting the  beauties  of  Pantheism  for  the  blasphemies 
of  Atheism ;  the  dexterity  by  which  he  has  intro- 
duced love  to  the  Creator's  works,  instead  of  love 
to  the  Creator  himself,  natural  "earnestness"  for 


404  THE  WORLDS  ORACLES. 

the  zeal  of  the  renewed  man,  self-reliance  for 
dependence  upon  the  Almighty,  sympathy  with 
" nature"  for  fellowship  with  God;  the  successful 
subtlety  with  which  he  has  confounded  opinion 
with  truth,  speculativeness  with  honest  inquiry, 
credulity  with  faith,  misanthropy  with  separation 
from  the  world ; — these  things  are  truly  fitted  to 
alarm,  inasmuch  as  they  threaten  the  obliteration 
of  every  sacred  landmark,  and  the  final  substitution 
of  evil  for  good,  and  darkness  for  light. 

The  illumination  coming  from  the  Sun  of  right- 
eousness is  one  thing,  and  that  proceeding  from 
Satan,  as  an  angel  of  light,  is  quite  another. 
Satan's  object  is  to  confound  these  two  kinds  of 
light,  so  that  men  may  be  misled,  as  by  the  gleam 
of  a  false  beacon,  which  ensnares  even  a  skilful 
pilot,  and  hurries  the  secure  vessel  suddenly  upon 
the  rock.  One  of  our  greatest  dangers  in  these 
days,  arises  from  this  effort  of  the  evil  one.  If  he 
had  set  up  his  light  in  a  wholly  opposite  quarter, 
and  given  it  a  colour  like  himself, — the  lurid  glare 
of  hell, — men  would  not  have  been  deceived.  But 
he  has  imitated  so  nearly  the  hue  of  the  true  light, 
and  placed  it  so  near  the  heavenly  lighthouse,  that 
thousands  mistake  the  beacon,  and  find  themselves 
unexpectedly  a  wreck. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  idols  have  spoken,  and  do 
still  speak,  vanity.  They  cheat  men  with  a  thou- 
sand falsities.  They  proclaim  hopes  that  end  in 
disappointment.  They  dupe  the  heedless,  and  then 
mock  their  miseries.     They  promise  men  liberty, 


the  world's  oracles.  405 

while  they  themselves  are  the  servants  of  corrup- 
tion. They  promise  the  bread  of  truth,  and  give 
only  the  husks  of  error.  They  promise  joy,  and 
defraud  the  unwary  with  the  "  pleasures  of  sin." 
They  speak  peace,  when,  instead  of  peace,  there  is 
wrath.  They  teach  men  to  say,  "  1  am  rich,  and 
increased  in  goods,  and  have  need  of  nothing," 
when  they  are  "poor,  and  miserable,  and  wretched, 
and  blind,  and  naked."  They  tell  men  "  To-morrow 
shall  be  as  this  day,  and  much  more  abundant," 
when  time  is  on  the  edge  of  bankruptcy,  and  the 
world's  great  famine  is  at  hand,  when  men's 
famished  spirits  shall  ask  for  bread  in  vain  ; 
when  earth  shall  plead  for  something  to  fill  the 
craving  void, — which  should  have  been  filled  by 
God  himself  and  his  incarnate  Son, — and  there 
shall  be  nothing  but  the  chaff,   or  the   sand,   or 

the  air. 

Shun  the  idols  that  speak  vanity.     Listen  to  no 

voice,  however  pleasant,  save  that  which  is  entirely 

in  harmony  with  God's.     Take  nothing  for  truth 

save  what  comes  from  him.     Follow  no  light  but 

that  of  him  who  says,    "  I  am  the  Light  of  the 

world."     Abjure  every  pleasure,  every  indulgence, 

of  which  Christ  is  not  the  alpha  and  the  omega, 

or  which  would  grieve  that  Holy  Spirit  of  God, 

whereby  we  are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption. 

Men  may  say,  Don't  be  singular,  don't  pretend 

to  be  wiser  or  better  than  others.     Let  us  answer, 

without  shrinking,   u  Let  God  be  true,  and  every 

man  a  liar."     Those  who  have   listened   to   the 


406  the  world's  oracles. 

oracles  of  earth  have  always  been  a  multitude  ; 
while  they  who  have  listened  to  God  have  always 
been  few.  Let  not  this  discourage  us.  We  have 
but  one  voice  to  listen  to,  and  it  speaks  articulately, 
so  that  we  have  no  excuse  either  for  hesitation  or 
mistake.  While  others  are  listening  to  the  idols 
who  speak  vanity,  let  us  be  intent  on  knowing 
what  the  Lord  has  spoken.  Many  may  walk 
on  in  darkness  ;  but  it  is  written,  "  The  wise 
shall  understand"  (Dan.  xii.  10).  Let  others 
betake  themselves  to  "the  wizards  that  peep  and 
mutter  ;  should  not  a  people  seek  unto  their 
God  ?" 

What  though  the  oracles  have  spoken, — are  they 
our  gods  ?  Are  they  the  representatives  of  Him  in 
whom  are  hid  all  the  treasures  of  wrisdom  and 
knowledge  ?  Do  they  speak  according  to  the  law 
and  the  testimony  ? 

It  is  written,  "  The  idols  have  spoken  vanity." 
They  have  cheated  their  worshippers.  They  are 
doing  so  still.  They  give  fair  words,  but  that  is  all. 
The  issue  is  disappointment  and  shame.  Are  you 
allowing  yourselves  thus  to  be  cheated  by  Satan 
and  his  pretended  wisdom, — by  the  world  and  its 
deceiving  oracles  ?  Are  you  the  dupes  of  these 
idols,  who,  having  once  lured  you  into  the  snare, 
will  only  laugh  at  your  calamity? 

Be  wise  in  time.  For  the  day  of  these  oracles  is 
last  running  to  a  close.  "  The  idols  he  will  utterly 
abolish."  The  vanities  which  they  have  spoken 
will   be  soon  exposed.     The  hollo wness  of  their 


the  world's  oracles.  407 

promises  will,  ere  long,  be  detected.  Listen  not 
to  them,  but  to  the  faithful  and  true  Witness, — 
to  the  words  of  the  living  God  ;  to  him  who 
says,  "Learn  of  me  ;"  to  him  who  utters  no 
vanity,  but  who  has  the  words  of  everlasting  life, — 
the  truth  which  fills,  and  satisfies,  and  gladdens, — 
yea,  who  is  himself  "the  Way,  the  Truth,  and 
the  Life." 


SERMON    XLVII. 

THE   VAIN   WISH. 


"  Let  mo  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like 

his." — Num.  xxiii.  10. 


We  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  place  where  these 

words  were  spoken.     It  was  in  the  land  of  Moab, 

and  amid  the  wild  desolation  of  its  bare  grey  hills. 

It  was  hard  by  the  land  of  promise,  but  not  in  it ; 

quite  within  sight  of  it,  yet  still  with  Jordan  and 

the  Dead  Sea  between.     It  was  a  land  of  enemies  ; 

a  land  of  false  worship  ;  a  land  whose  king  hated 

Israel,  and  was  searching  everywhere  for  curses  to 

launch  at  him.     From  this  stranger-land,  and  from 

these  hills,  round  which  the  exhalations  from  the 

sea  of  death  are  gathering,  and  over  which  the 

gloom  of  the  shadow  of  death  is  resting,  the  prayer 

comes  up,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 

and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 

Nor  must  we  forget  the  man  who  spoke  them. 

He  is  a  Mesopotamia!!  seer  ;  a  man  who,  though  a 

worshipper  of  false  gods,  knows  much  of  the  one 

true   God.     He  is    one   who  wants   to  serve   two 

masters,  and  to  make  the  best  of  both  worlds  ;  and, 

while  serving  Moab's  Baal,  would  like   to  be  in 

favour  with  Israel's  Jehovah.     He  knows   enough 
408 


THE  VAIN  WISH.  409 

of  Jehovah  to  stand  in  awe  of  his  displeasure,  and 
enough  of  Jehovah's  people  to  desire  an  inheritance 
among  them.  But,  like  Demas,  he  loves  this  present 
world,  and  he  covets  the  wages  of  unrighteousness. 
He  would  like  to  lose  nothing  of  the  good  either  of 
this  world  or  the  next.  He  would  like  to  pitch  his 
tent  among  the  goodly  tabernacles  of  Israel  ;  but 
then,  he  must  come  out  from  his  own  nation,  and 
break  with  Moab  ;  he  must  forego  all  Balak's 
rewards,  and  give  up  honour,  wealth,  reputation, 
friends  ;  and  he  cannot  make  up  his  mind  to  this. 
He  would  like  religion,  if  it  were  not  so  dear.  He 
would  fain  have  a  home  both  in  Israel  and  Moab, 
and  be  both  Baal's  and  Jehovah's  prophet ;  but, 
since  he  cannot  thus  unite  heaven  and  earth  just 
now,  he  starts  the  thought,  But  might  I  enjoy  them 
in  succession  ;  Moab  just  now,  Israel  afterwards  ? 
Might  I  not  serve  Baal  just  now,  and  Jehovah  here- 
after ?  Might  I  not  go  on  living  as  heretofore,  but 
make  a  change  at  death  ?  This  is  the  thought  that 
is  working  its  way  through  these  words,  "  Let  me 
die  the  death  of  the  righteous."  He  sees  that  the 
death  of  the  righteous  is  the  best,  whatever  his  life 
may  be,  and  from  the  gloomy  depths  of  a  "divided 
heart "  he  sends  up  this  bitter  cry. 

But  it  is  with  the  wish  or  prayer  itself  that  we 
have  specially  to  do.  (1.)  What  does  it  mean  ? 
(2.)  What  state  of  feeling  does  it  indicate  ? 

I.  What  does  it  mean  ?  He  knew  that  he  must 
die,  and  that,  after  death,  he  must  live  for  ever. 


410  THE  VAIN  WISH. 

He  had  seen  men  die  ;  he  had  seen  the  men  of 
Aram,  and  Midian,  and  Moab  die ;  but  it  was  with- 
out hope  ;  and  he  had  seen  the  mourners  go  about 
the  streets  for  them,  but  they  sorrowed  as  those 
who  had  no  hope.  He  would  not  die  their  death. 
He  had  seen,  or  at  least  heard  of,  other  deaths, 
for  he  evidently  knew  much  of  Israel  and  Israel's 
history.  He  had  heard  of  the  deaths  of  Abraham, 
and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  in  other  days  ;  and,  it  may 
be,  he  had  heard  of  Aaron's  death  on  Mount  Hor, 
just  a  short  time  before  ;  and  he  knew  how  the 
righteous  die.  "  Let  me,  then,  die  their  death." 
Dimly,  and  from  afar,  he  had  read  the  joyful  truth, 
afterwards  brought  nearer  and  into  fuller  light, — 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in  the  Lord." 

But  the  words  mean  more  than  this ;  for  he  speaks 
not  merely  of  death,  but  of  something  beyond  death, 
— the  last  end  of  the  righteous.  This  is  no  repeti- 
tion of  the  other.  There  is  a  parallelism  indeed, 
but  it  is  an  ascending  one  ;  this  second  part  con- 
taining more  than  the  first ;  and  by  "last  end"  the 
seer  meant  resurrection, — a  truth  far  more  widely 
known,  at  least  among  the  nations  in  any  way  linked 
with  the  patriarchs  and  patriarchal  traditions,  than 
is  generally  admitted.  Balaam's  prayer  was,  "Let 
me  share  the  death  of  the  righteous  ;  and  let  me 
share  his  resurrection  too."  How  full  and  compre- 
hensive !  There  is  no  vagueness  about  the  object 
of  the  wish,  whatever  there  may  be  about  the  feel- 
ings or  actings  of  him  who  uttered  it.  It  is  a  prayer 
for  us  to  join  in  ;  and,  though  once  the  prayer  of 


THE  VAIN  WISH.  411 

an    unbeliever,    it    may  well  be  the   prayer  of  a 
believing  man. 

II.  What  state  of  feeling  does  it  indicate  ?  It  was 
not  in  pretended  earnestness  nor  idle  flippancy  that 
these  words  were  uttered.  They  were  sincere.  The 
Syrian  prophet  felt  what  he  was  saying.  Compelled 
by  the  almighty  Spirit  to  look  into  Israel's  future, 
and  utterglorious  things  concerning  it,  he  was  roused 
up  to  desire  such  a  future  for  himself,  to  covet  such 
a  glory  and  such  an  immortality  as  awaited  Israel 
when  the  Star  of  Jacob  should  arise,  bringing  morn- 
ing, and  gladness,  and  an  incorruptible  inheritance. 
Sick  at  heart,  and  weary  of  the  hollowness  of  his 
own  heathenism,  and  all  that  it  could  give  him,  he 
cries  aloud,  from  the  depths  of  a  dissatisfied  heart, 
Je  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous."  Disap- 
pointed and  sorrowful,  he  sees  the  eternal  brightness 
in  the  distance,  with  all  its  attraction,  and  beauty, 
and  unchangeableness,  and  in  the  bitterness  of  his 
spirit  he  cries  out,  "  Would  God  that  I  were 
there  !"  The  feeling  soon  passes  off,  but  while  it 
lasts  it  is  real.  But,  with  all  its  realitv,  it  leads  to 
nothing.  It  leaves  him  where  it  found  him,  amid 
the  mountains  of  Moab,  as  earthly,  as  covetous,  as 
carnal  as  before.  He  would  fain  have  the  death 
of  the  righteous,  but  he  sees  nothing  desirable  in 
his  life.  He  would  fain  have  Israel's  inheritance,  but 
he  has  no  wish  to  be  a  worshipper  of  Israel's  God. 

Balaam's  wish  is  a  very  common  one,  both  in 
its  nature  and  in  its  fruitlessness.     Sometimes  it 


412  THE  VAIN  WISH. 

is  a  mere  passing  wish,  called  up  by  vexation  and 
weariness  ;  at  other  times  it  is  a  deep-breathed 
prayer  ;  but,  in  both  cases,  it  is  too  often  inneffec  - 
tive,  leading  to  nothing.  Men,  young  as  well  as 
old,  get  tired  of  life,  sick  of  the  world  and  its 
vanities.  They  see  that  it  has  nothing  for  them 
after  all ;  and  that,  even  if  it  had,  none  of  its 
pleasures  can  last.  When  it  has  done  all  it  can, 
it  still  leaves  them  with  a  troubled  conscience,  an 
aching  head,  and  an  empty  heart.  It  makes 
promises,  but  cannot  keep  them  ;  it  gives  gifts  to 
its  lovers,  but  they  perish  with  the  using ;  it 
strews  roses  in  the  path  of  its  admirers,  but  this  is 
only  to  cover  its  hideousness ;  it  prepares  its  revel - 
lings  and  banquetings,  but  these  are  to  intoxicate 
and  poison  ;  it  spreads  out  its  thrones  and  pomps, 
its  costly  gems  and  pearls,  its  gold  and  silver,  its 
purple  and  scarlet,  its  gaiety  and  splendour  ;  but 
these  fill  up  nothing  :  they  bind  up  no  wounds, 
they  knit  no  broken  ties,  they  staunch  no  bleeding 
hearts,  they  heal  no  blighted  affection  ;  they  leave 
sorrow  still  sorrow,  and  pain  still  pain,  and  tears 
still  tears,  and  death  still  death,  and  the  grave 
still  the  scene  of  farewells,  and  the  dwelling  of 
corruption.  Is  it  wonderful,  then,  that  the  vexed 
spirit  should  at  times  fling  all  such  earthly  mock- 
eries aside,  and  groan  out  the  fervent  prayer  of 
the  Syrian  seer,  "Let  me  die  the  death  of  the 
righteous  ? '  Have  you  not  often  done  so  ?  And 
have  you  not  added,  "0  that  I  had  wings  like  a 
dove  ;  then  should  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest  ?" 


THE  VAIN  WISH.  41 


o 


In  too  many  cases,  this  is  transient  and  senti- 
mental. It  leads  to  no  action,  no  result.  It 
vanishes  like  a  bright  rainbow  from  a  dark  cloud, 
and  there  is  no  change.  Is  it  to  be  so  with  you  ? 
You  hope  to  enter  heaven  ;  you  wish  for  a  happy 
death  at  last  ;  but  will  wishes  save  you  ?  Will 
wishes  pluck  out  death's  sting,  or  conquer  the 
grave,  or  make  you  partaker  of  the  resurrection  of 
the  just  ?  You  can't  wish  yourself  into  heaven,  or 
out  of  hell.  Your  wishes  will  do  nothing  for  you, 
either  here  or  hereafter.  If  hungry,  a  wish  won't 
give  you  bread  ;  or,  if  thirsty,  a  wish  wont  quench 
your  thirst  ;  or,  if  suffering,  a  wish  wont  soothe 
your  pain  ;  or,  if  dying,  a  wish  won't  bring  back 
health  into  your  pale  cheek  and  faded  eye. 

Yet,  a  wish  may  be  a  good  beginning.  All 
fruit  begins  with  buds  and  blossoms  ;  and  though 
these  often  come  to  nought,  yet  sometimes  they 
end  in  much.  And,  therefore,  I  would  reason 
with  you  ;  I  would  plead  with  you.  That  wish 
may  be  the  beginning  of  your  eternal  life.  It 
may  lead  to  much  ;  Oh,  let  it  lead  you  on  !  Do 
not  trust  to  it,  as  if  it  made  you  safe  and  right  ; 
yet  do  not  despise  it,  as  if  it  were  nothing.  It 
may  be  like  the  angel  that  came  to  Lot  to  lead 
him  out  of  Sodom  :  be  not,  therefore,  forgetful  to 
entertain  this  stranger  ;  for  you  may  be  entertain- 
ing an  angel  unawares.  Yield  to  it,  and  let  it 
lead  you  on.  Let  it  lead  you  out  of  the  world. 
Let  it  lead  you  out  of  self.  Let  it  lead  you  to  the 
cross.     Let  it  lead  you  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling, 


414  THE  VAIN  WISH. 

the  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness. 
Let  it  lead  you  straight,  and  without  delay,  just 
as  you  are,  to  Christ  Jesus  himself,  and  to  God, 
the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Let  it  lead 
you  up  to  the  mercy- seat,  where  the  blood  speaks 
pardon,  and  the  High  Priest  waits  to  bless.  Let 
it  do  all  this  now. 

Do  not  suffer  that  wish,  however  faint,  to  die 
away.  It  is  the  touch  of  the  Spirit  within  you. 
It  is  the  voice  of  Christ,  saying,  "  Come  unto  me." 
It  is  the  call  of  the  Father,  yearning  over  his 
prodigal,  and  beseeching  him  to  be  reconciled  and 
blest.  But  a  prayer  like  this,  pointing  both  at 
death  and  resurrection,  specially  speaks  of  him 
who  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life.  Go  to  him 
with  your  longings  after  the  death  and  resurrec- 
tion of  the  righteous.  Go  to  him  with  that  weary 
spirit,  he  will  give  it  rest ;  with  that  empty  heart, 
he  will  fill  it ;  with  that  aching  head,  he  will 
soothe  it ;  with  that  troubled  mind,  he  will  calm 
it  ;  with  that  faded  eye,  he  will  brighten  it.  He 
will  give  you  "  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for 
mourning."  Go  to  him  with  your  sorrow,  he  will 
turn  it  into  joy.  Go  to  him  with  your  death,  he 
will  transform  it  into  life.  Go  to  him  with  your 
sins,  he  will  forgive  them  frankly.  Go  to  him 
with  your  stony  heart,  he  will  take  it  out  of  you, 
and  give  you  the  heart  of  flesh.  Go  to  him  with 
your  chains,  he  will  snap  them  asunder.  Go  to 
him  with  your  hunger,  he  will  feed  you  ;  with 
your  thirst,  he  will  give  you  drink  ;  with  every 


THE  VAIN  WISH.  415 

burden,  and  care,  and  weakness,  he  will  remove 
them  all. 

Oh,  do  not  rest  in  a  wish,  a  prayer,  however 
good.  That  will  not  save  you.  Balaam  went  as 
far  as  that,  Demas  went  farther,  Judas  farther 
still ;  yet  they  were  lost.  Be  not  like  these. 
Quarrel  with  sin  at  once.  Break  with  the  world 
at  once.  Linger  no  longer  on  the  mountains  of 
Moab  or  the  plains  of  Midian.  Enter  Israel's 
land.  Pitch  your  tents  in  the  midst  of  the  beloved 
nation.  Say  with  Ruth,  when  she  left  Moab, 
"  Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go  ;  and  where  thou 
lodgest  T  will  lodge  :  thy  people  shall  be  my  people, 
and  thy  God  my  God.  Where  thou  diest,  will  I 
die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried  :  the  Lord  do  so  to 
me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part  thee 
and  me."  • 

You  know  that  vou  must  die.  Do  not  dismiss 
that  subject  with  a  wish  or  a  hurried  prayer.  Do 
not  treat  it  sentimentally,  and  sing,  "  0  for  the 
death  of  those  that  die  like  daylight  in  the  west  !" 
Do  not  trifle  away  its  solemnity,  or  say  with  the 
French  infidel  (Mirabeau),  "Let  me  die  to  the 
sound  of  delicious  music  !  "  Look  at  death  full  in 
the  face.  Take  up  Balaam's  prayer.  It  is  a  good 
one  ;  only  let  be  carried  out.  Die  in  Jesus,  and 
you  die  well.  "  Blessed  are  the  dead  that  die  in 
the  Lord.''  But  the  dying  in  Jesus  must  be  begun 
by  the  living  in  Jesus.  Only  this  will  do.  Live  in 
him,  and  it  will  not  be  hard  to  die. 


SERMON  XLVIII. 

THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL. 

"  Neither  can  they  die  any  more." — Luke  xx.  36. 

Ours  is  a  dying  world  ;  and  immortality  has  no 
place  upon  this  earth.  That  which  is  deathless  is 
beyond  these  hills.  Mortality  is  here  ;  immor- 
tality is  yonder  !  Mortality  is  below ;  immortality 
is  above.  "  Neither  can  they  die  any  more/'  is  the 
prediction  of  something  future,  not  the  announce- 
ment of  anything  either  present  or  past.  At  every 
moment  one  of  the  sons  of  Adam  passes  from  this 
life  ;  and  each  swing  of  the  pendulum  is  the  death- 
warrant  of  some  child  of  time.  "  Death/'  "  death/' 
is  the  sound  of  its  dismal  vibration.  "Death/' 
"death/'  it  says,  unceasingly,  as  it  oscillates  to  and 
fro.  The  gate  of  death  stands  ever  open,  as  if  it 
had  neither  locks  nor  bars.  The  river  of  death 
Hows  sullenly  past  our  dwellings  ;  and  continually 
we  hear  the  splash  and  the  cry  of  one,  and  another, 
and  another,  as  they  are  flung  into  the  rushing 
torrent,  and  carried  down  to  the  sea  of  eternity. 

Earth  is  full  of  death-beds.     The  groan  of  pain 
is    heard    everywhere, — in    cottage    or   castle,    in 
prince's  palace  or  peasant's  hut.     The  tear  of  part- 
ing is  seen  falling  everywhere  ;  rich  and  poor,  good 
41G 


THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL.  417 

and  evil,  are  called  to  weep  over  the  departure  of 
beloved  kindred,  husband  or  wife,  or  child,  or 
friend.  Who  can  bind  the  strong  man  that  he 
shall  not  lay  his  hand  upon  us  or  our  beloved  ones  ? 
Who  can  say  to  sickness,  Thou  shalt  not  touch  my 
frame  ;  or  to  pain,  Thou  shalt  not  come  nigh  ;  or 
to  death,  Thou  shalt  not  enter  here  ?  Who  can 
light  up  the  dimmed  eye,  or  recolour  the  faded 
cheek,  or  reinvigorate  the  icy  hand,  or  bid  the 
sealed  lip  open,  or  the  stiffened  tongue  speak  once 
more  the  words  of  warm  affection  ?  Who  can  enter 
the  death-chamber,  and  speak  the  "Talitha  Cumi" 
of  resurrection  ?  Who  can  look  into  the  coffin, 
and  say,  Young  man,  arise  ?  Who  can  go  into  the 
tomb,  and  say,  Lazarus,  come  forth  ? 

The  voice  of  death  is  heard  everywhere.  Not 
from  the  bier  alone,  nor  the  funeral  procession,  nor 
the  dark  vault,  nor  the  heaving  churchyard.  Death 
springs  up  all  around.  Each  season  speaks  of  death. 
The  dropping  spring-blossom;  the  scorched  leaf 
of  summer  ;  the  ripe  sheaf  of  autumn  ;  the  bare 
black  winter  mould, — all  tell  of  death.  The  wild 
storm,  with  its  thick  clouds  and  hurrying  shadows  ; 
the  sharp  lightning,  bent  on  smiting  ;  the  dark 
torrent,  ravaging  field  and  vale  ;  the  cold  sea- 
wave  ;  the  ebbing  tide  ;  the  crumbling  rock  ;  the 
up-torn  tree, — all  speak  of  dissolution  and  cor- 
ruption. Earth  numbers  its  grave-yards  by  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  ;  and  the  sea  covers  the  dust  of 
uncounted  millions,  who,  coffined  and  uncoffined, 
have  gone  down  into  its  unknown  darkness. 

Pd 


418  THE  MORTAL  AND  TTIE  IMMORTAL. 


Death  reigns  over  earth  and  sea  :  city  and  vil- 
lage are  his.  Into  .every  house  this  last  enemy 
has  entered,  in  spite  of  man's  desperate  efforts  to 
keep  him  out.  There  is  no  family  without  some 
empty  seat  or  crib  ;  no  fireside  without  a  blank  ; 
no  circle  out  of  which  some  brightness  has  not  de- 
parted. There  is  no  garden  without  some  faded 
rose  ;  no  forest  without  some  sere  leaf ;  no  tree 
without  some  shattered  bough  ;  no  harp  without 
some  broken  string. 

In  Adam  all  die  He  is  the  head  of  death,  and 
we  its  mortal  members.  There  is  no  exemption 
from  this  necessity  ;  there  is  no  discharge  in  this 
war.  The  old  man  dies  ;  but  the  young  also  ;  the 
grey  and  the  golden  head  are  laid  in  the  same  cold 
clay.  The  sinner  dies  ;  so  also  does  the  saint  ;  the 
common  earth  from  which  they  sprang  receives  them 
both.  The  fool  dies ;  so  also  does  the  wise.  The  poor 
man  dies ;  so  also  does  the  rich.    "  All  flesh  is  grass." 

The  first  Adam  died  ;  so  also  died  the  second 
Adam,  who  is  the  Lord  from  heaven.  But  there 
is  a  difference.  The  first  Adam  died,  and,  there- 
fore, we  die.  The  second  Adam  died,  and  there- 
fore, we  live  ;  for  the  last  Adam  was  made  a 
quickening  spirit ;  and  this  is  the  pledge  of  final 
victory  over  death  and  the  tomb.  Thus,  the  grave 
is  the  cradle  of  life  ;  night  is  the  womb  of  day  ; 
and  sunset  has  become  sunrise  to  ©ur  shaded  and 
sorrowful  earth.  Yet,  this  is  not  yet  realised. 
We  are  still  under  the  reign  of  death,  and  this  is 
the  hour  and  the  power  of  darkness,     The  day  of 


THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL.  419 

the  destruction  of  death,  and  the  unlocking  of 
sepulchres  is  not  yet.  It  will  come  in  due  time. 
Meanwhile  we  have  to  look  on  death  ;  for  our 
dwelling  is  in  a  world  of  death, — a  land  of  graves. 

If,  then,  we  would  get  beyond  death's  circle  and 
shadow,  we  must  look  above.  Death  is  here,  but 
life  is  yonder  !  Corruption  is  here,  incorruption  is 
yonder.  The  fading  is  here,  the  blooming  is  yonder. 
We  must  take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  fly 
away  to  the  region  of  the  unsorrowing  and  the 
undying  ;  where  "  that  which  is  sown  in  weakness 
shall  be  raised  in  power,  and  death  be  swallowed 
up  in  victory." 

It  is  not  that  God  loves  death,  or  desires  to  see  the 
extension  of  its  gloomy  reign.  It  was  not  because 
he  loved  it  that  he  let  it  loose  upon  the  world  at 
first ;  nor,  after  so  many  ages,  has  he  begun  to  love 
it  now,  or  to  become  familiar  with  it,  or  to  look 
with  indifference  upon  the  ills  which  attend  it, — the 
sorrow,  the  weeping,  the  pain,  the  desolation,  the 
breaking  in  pieces  of  the  great  temple  of  humanity, 
and  the  undoing  of  all  that  divine  handiwork  which 
at  first  he  pronounced  so  very  good.  No.  But  sin 
has  entered  ;  and  law,  unchangeable,  remorseless, 
righteous  law,  demands  the  execution  of  the  lawful 
sentence,  "  In  the  day  thou  eatest  thereof,  thou 
shalt  surely  die  ;"  "dust  thou  art,  and  tq  dust  thou 
shalt  return."  Man  has  only  himself  to  blame  for 
a  mortal  body  and  a  ruined  earth.  God  hates 
death,  and  all  that  death  has  done,  as  truly  as  ho 
hates  siiL     He  abhors  the  grave  and  its  corruption. 


420  THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL. 

He  did  not  make  man  to  be  the  prey  of  worms,  nor 
create  earth  to  be  either  a  sepulchre  or  a  hell. 
The  eye  weeps,  yet  God  did  not  make  it  to  weep, 
but  to  sparkle  with  gladness  ;  and  the  lips  utter 
sorrow,  yet  God  did  not  make  them  to  speak  aught 
but  praise  and  joy.  So  man  dies ;  but  God  made  him 
not  to  die,  but  to  live.  Earth  is  a  vast  grave-yard ; 
yet  God  made  it  a  paradise  of  life.  His  soul  loathes 
the  corruption  of  mortality,  with  which  our  world 
is  overspread.  He  abhors  death,  and  will,  ere  long, 
arise  and  avenge  himself  upon  it  for  the  ravages  of 
six  thousand  years.  No  stronger  language  of  abhor- 
rence could  be  used,  no  more  solemn  purpose  of 
divine  vengeance  could  be  indicated  than  the  follow- 
ing,— "  I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the 
grave ;  I  will  redeem  them  from  death ;  0  death,  I 
will  be  thy  plagues  ;  0  grave,  I  will  be  thy  de- 
struction :  repentance  shall  be  hid  from  mine  eyes" 
(Hos.  xiii.  14). 

We  look  forward  to  the  day  of  incorruption ;  but 
not  so  earnestly  nor  so  sincerely  as  God  himself.  It 
is  on  resurrection  that  his  heart  is  set ;  and  not  an 
hour  longer  than  is  absolutely  needful  shall  that 
glorious  consummation  be  delayed.  The  Church 
desires  it  ;  this  body  groans  for  it  ;  all  creation 
longs  for  it ;  but  God  still  more  than  all .  His  object 
is  not  to  perpetuate,  but  to  terminate  the  reign 
of  death ;  through  death  to  destroy  him  that  has  the 
power  of  death.  His  purpose  is  to  abolish  death, 
to  bind  Satan,  and  to  give  his  saints  glorified  bodies, 
and    introduce    the  new  heavens  and  new  earth, 


THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL.  421 

wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  All  heaven  above 
is  interested  in  resurrection.  It  is  a  thing  such  as 
angels  have  never  seen,  save  in  the  case  of  the 
risen  Son  of  God,  the  gate  of  whose  rocky  sepulchre 
they  descended  to  open.  They  long  for  the  resur- 
rection-glory, as  truly  as  they  join  in  the  joy  over 
one  sinner  that  repenteth. 

Blessed  words  are  these  :  u  Neither  can  they  die 
any  more."  It  is  not  simply,  Neither  shall  they 
die  any  more,  but  neither  can  they  die  any  more. 
Death,  which  is  now  a  law,  an  inevitable  necessity, 
shall  then  be  an  impossibility.  Blessed  impos- 
sibility !  Neither  can  they  die  any  more  !  Oh, 
the  security  which  these  words  give !  Oh,  the 
comfort,  the  unutterable  gladness  which  they  diffuse 
through  the  soul !  Neither  can  they  die  any  more  ! 
Death  and  the  grave  are  cast  into  the  lake  of  fire. 
They  who  are  partakers  of  the  first  resurrection 
and  of  the  world  to  come,  are  made  for  ever  im- 
mortal. They  live  for  ever.  They  cannot  die. 
They  have  put  on  incorruption.  They  are  clothed 
with  the  immortality  of  the  Son  of  God ;  for  as  the 
Head  is  immortal,  so  shall  the  members  be.  Ah, 
this  is  victory  over  death !  This  is  the  triumph  of 
life !  It  is  more  than  resurrection  ;  for  it  is  resur- 
rection, with  the  security  that  death  can  never 
again  approach  them  throughout  eternity. 

All  things  connected  with  that  new  resurrection- 
state  shall  be  immortal,  too.  Their  inheritance  is 
unfading.  Their  city,  the  new  Jerusalem,  shall 
never  crumble  down.     Their  paradise  is  as  much 


42'J,  THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL. 

beyond  the  power  of  decay  as  it  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  a  second  serpent-tempter.  Their  crowns  are  all 
imperishable  ;  and  the  white  raiment  in  which  they 
shine  shall  never  need  cleansing  or  renewal.  No 
failing  of  eyesight;  no  wrinkles  on  their  brow; 
no  hollo wness  in  their  cheeks  ;  no  grey  hairs  upon 
their  heads ;  no  weariness  of  limbs ;  nor  languor  of 
spirit ;  nor  drying  up  of  their  rivers  of  pleasure. 
The  evil  days  shall  never  come  nor  the  years  draw 
nigh  when  they  shall  say,  We  have  no  pleasure  in 
them.  The  keepers  of  the  house  shall  never 
tremble,  nor  the  strong  men  bow  themselves,  nor 
the  grinders  cease,  nor  they  who  look  out  of  the 
windows  be  darkened.  No  fears  shall  be  in  the 
way,  nor  shall  the  almond-tree  nourish,  nor  the 
grasshopper  become  a  burden/  nor  shall  desire  fail, 
nor  shall  the  mourners  go  about  the  streets.  The 
silver  cord  shall  not  be  loosed,  nor  the  golden  bowl 
be  broken,  nor  the  pitcher  be  broken  at  the  fountain, 
nor  the  wheel  at  the  cistern.  One  generation  shall 
not  pass  away,  nor  another  come.  There  shall  be 
a  time  to  be  born,  but  not  a  time  to  die ;  a  time  to 
plant,  but  no  time  to  pluck  up  that  which  is 
planted  ;  a  time  to  heal,  but  no  time  to  kill;  a  time 
to  build,  but  no  time  to  break  down  ;  a  time  to 
laugh,  but  no  time  to  weep ;  a  time  to  dance,  but  no 
time  to  mourn  ;  a  time  to  get,  but  no  time  to  lose ; 
a  time  to  love,  but  no  time  to  hate ;  a  time  of  peace, 
but  no  time  of  war.  Never  again  shall  it  be  said, 
The  days  of  darkness  are  coming;  for  the  sun  shall 
no  more  go  down,  neither  for  brightness  shall  their 


THE  MORTAL  AND  THE  IMMORTAL.       423 

moon  withdraw  itself,  for  the  Lord  shall  be  their 
everlasting  light,  and  the  days  of  their  mourning 
shall  be  ended.  Then  shall  the  wise  man's  maxim 
be  out  of  date  for  ever,  "  The  day  of  death  is  better 
than  the  day  of  birth;"  and  never  more  shall  his 
lament  over  a  fading  world  be  heard,  "  Vanity  of 
vanities,  all  is  vanity."     Here  they  sing, 

Ah  !  I  shall  soon  be  dying, 
Time  swiftly  glides  away. 

But  then  their  song  is  only  of  life,  for  they  know 
that  they  cannot  die  any  more.  Here  they  say,  as 
one,  feeling  his  mortality,  has  plaintively  sung,        , 

Go  and  dig  my  grave  to  day, 

Homeward  doth  my  journey  tend ; 
And  I  lay  my  staff  away 

Here,  where  all  things  earthly  end ; 
And  I  lay  my  weary  head 
In  the  only  painless  bed. 

But  there  they  shall  sing,  not  their  death-dirge  but 
their  resurrection-song,  with  resurrection-voice,  in 
the  glorious  resurrection-land,  "  where  they  shall 
hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more  ;  but  where 
the  Lamb  shall  lead  them  to  the  living  fountains 
of  waters,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from 
their  eves." 


SERMON   XLTX. 

LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

"  And  I  besought  the  Lord  at  that  time,  saying,  0  Lord  God,  thou  hast 
oegun  to  shew  thy  servant  thy  greatness,  and  thy  mighty  hand  :  for  what 
God  is  there  in  heaven  or  in  earth,  that  can  do  according  to  thy  works 
and  according  to  thy  might?  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  over,  and  see  the 
good  land  that  is  beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly  mountain,  and  Lebanon. 
But  the  Lord  was  wroth  with  me  for  your  sakes,  and  would  not  hear  me : 
and  the  Lord  said  unto  me,  Let  it  suffice  thee  ;  speak  no  more  unto  me 
of  this  matter.  Get  thee  up  into  the  top  of  Pisgah,  and  lift  up  thine  eyes 
westward,  and  northward,  and  southward,  and  eastward,  and  behold  it 
with  thine  eyes :  for  thou  shalt  not  go  over  this  Jordan.  But  charge 
Joshua,  and  encourage  him,  and  strengthen  him  :  for  he  shall  go  over 
before  this  people,  and  he  shall  cause  them  to  inherit  the  land  which  thou 
shalt  see.  So  we  abode  in  the  valley  over  against  Beth-peor." — Deut. 
iii.  23-29. 

The  scene  here  lies  in  "  the  valley  over  against 
Beth-peor/'  at  the  hase  of  the  hills  of  Moab,  that 
long  grey  ridge  of  barren  mountains  that  oversha- 
dows the  Dead  Sea  and  the  plain  of  Jordan.  The 
land  is  as  inhospitable  as  the  people,  and  no  doubt 
Israel  was  glad  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  it  be- 
hind. 

The  time  is  the  end  of  the  forty  years' sojourn  in  the 
desert.  The  tribes  are  just  about  to  pass  over  into 
Canaan.  The  land  lies  before  them,  with  but  a  few 
miles  of  rugged  country  and  the  Jordan  between. 
Some  weeks,  perhaps  less,  will  bring   them  over. 

-124 


LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND.  425 

Their  desert  warfare,  and  toil,  and  travel  are  done. 
They  have,  as  it  were,  come  up  to  the  gate  of  Eden, 
and  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  in  and  exchange 
labour  for  rest,  barrenness  for  fruitfulness,  moun- 
tains of  bare  rock,  and  plains  of  scorching  sand,  for 
fresh  fields  and  vineyards,  and  rich  plains,  and  hills 
waving  with  terraces  of  olive  to  the  summit. 

This  nearness  to  the  long-looked-for  land  stirs 
up  the  spirit  of  Moses,  and  he  resolves  to  make 
one  effort  more  to  be  allowed  to  enter.  Entrance 
into  it  had  been  his  hope  from  the  day  he  left 
Egypt.  The  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey 
had  been  constantly  before  his  eyes.  And  though 
God  had  intimated  to  him  that,  on  account  of  his 
speaking  unadvisedly  with  his  lips  at  Meribah 
Kadesh,  he  was  not  to  enter  the  land  ;  yet  now, 
when  placed  within  sight  of  it,  the  longing  to  enter 
it  rises  up  within  him  in  all  its  force,  and  he  resolves 
to  attempt,  once  again,  to  obtain  entrance,  if  that, 
perchance,  he  may  be  permitted  to  set  foot  in  it 
before  he  die. 

Let  us  note,  then,  the  following  points  in  this 
narrative  : — 

I.  Moses  s  desire  to  enter, — (1.)  It  was  strong  and 
deep  ;  the  strongest  and  deepest  desire  of  his  soul 
in  regard  to  anything  earthly.  Is  our  longing  for 
,  the  heavenly  Canaan  as  vehement  as  his  for  the 
earthly  ?  (2.)  It  was  a  holy  desire.  There  was 
nothing  carnal  in  it ;  nothing  of  the  flesh  or  of  self. 
It  was  the  desire  of  a  holy  man  for  a  share  in  the 


426  LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

fulfilment  of  the  divine  promise.  (3.)  It  was  a 
patriotic  desire.  Canaan  was  his  true  fatherland, 
though  he  had  never  dwelt  in  it.  It  was  the 
home  of  his  fathers,  and  the  inheritance  of  his 
children,  the  land  in  which  Israel's  hopes  were 
wrapped  up.  As  a  patriot,  Moses  could  not  but 
long  to  enter  in.  (4.)  It  was  a  natural  desire. 
Though  brought  up  in  ease  and  luxury,  for  now 
eighty  years  he  had  been  a  dweller  in  tents  in  the 
wilderness,  a  man  without  a  home.  How  natural 
that  he  should  be  weary  of  the  desert,  and  long  for 
a  resting-place  !  (5.)  It  was  a  desire  connected 
with  the  welfare  of  his  nation.  Israel  was  to  be 
blest  in  that  land  of  blessing,  and  he  desired  to  see 
his  nation  settled  in  the  Lord's  land.  (6.)  It  was  a 
desire  connected  with  the  glory  of  God.  He  knew 
that  God  was  about  to  choose  a  place  wherein  to  set 
his  name,  and  to  shew  his  glory.  He  had  once  before 
pleaded,  "  Shew  me  thy  glory  ;"  and  what  could  be 
more  desirable  in  his  eyes  than  that  he  should  see 
the  manifestation  of  this  glory,  and  witness  the 
mighty  power  of  God  in  the  land  which  he  knew 
was  to  be  the  centre  and  stage  of  all  these  ?  Moses's 
desire,  then,  seems  a  reasonable,  proper,  and  true- 
hearted  desire.  We  greatly  sympathise  with  the 
old  man  of  six  score  in  the  feelings  here  expressed ; 
we  would  kneel  down  beside  him,  and  plead  with 
God  that  he  would  not  deny  the  request  of  his  aged 
servant.  It  is  but  a  small  request ;  and  how  blessed 
for  the  old  man,  like  Simeon,  to  get  the  fulfilment 
of  his  lifetime's  longings  before  he  die  !    It  was  not, 


LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND.  427 

indeed,  for  salvation  he  was  pleading  :  all  that  was 
settled  long  ago  between  him  and  his  God  ;  but  as 
the  saved  man,  as  a  son  and  heir,  he  was  asking 
for  a  nearer  sight  of  this  part  of  his  inheritance, — 
asking  to  set  his  mortal  foot  upon  a  land  which,  in 
resurrection,  he  knew  he  would,  in  days  to  come, 
tread  with  immortal  foot,  and  gaze  upon  with  im- 
mortal eye.  He  was  now  within  sight  both  of  the 
earthly  and  the  heavenly  Canaan  ;  the  upper  and 
the  nether  glory  were  both  before  his  eyes  ;  he 
longed  to  depart,  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is 
far  better  ;  but  still,  with  all  the  heavenly  full  in 
view,  and  ready  to  be  entered  on,  he  still  desired 
the  vision  of  the  earthly;  he  still  pleaded,  "I  pray 
thee,  let  me  go  over  and  see  the  good  land  that 
is  beyond  Jordan,  that  goodly  mountain,  and 
Lebanon." 

There  was  nothing  wrong,  or  carnal,  or  low  in 
this  desire  to  look  upon  the  earthly.  That  which 
is  earthly  is  not  necessarily  carnal,  and  that  which 
is  material  may  be  as  spiritual  as  that  which  is 
immaterial.  There  may  be  a  carnal  view  of  things 
heavenly,  as  truly  as  there  is  a  spiritual  view  of 
things  earthly.  The  former  is  that  which  unbelief 
always  takes,  the  latter  is  that  which  faith  realises. 
It  is  not  spirituality  to  abuse  the  body,  to  despise 
matter,  to  soar  above  the  clouds.  True  spirituality 
is  that  which  accepts  material  things  as  those  which 
God  created  and  pronounced  good ;  which  loves  to 
visit  them,  and  gaze  on  them  in  faith,  as  manifes- 
tations of  the  glory  of  the  invisible  God ;  as  helps 


428  LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

to  the  understanding  of  the  great  mystery  of  godli- 
ness, "God  manifest  in  the  flesh." 

II.  His  arguments  (ver.  24). — The  first  part  of 
his  argument  is,  "Thou  hast  shewed  me  the  begin- 
ning, wilt  not  thou  shew  me  the  end  ?"  It  is 
natural,  even  in  man's  works,  when  we  have  seen 
the  beginning,  to  desire  to  see  the  end;  and  to 
expect  that  he  who  has  shewn  us  the  one,  will  shew 
us  the  other.  Moses  feels  as  if  he  would  be  tanta- 
lized, almost  mocked,  by  not  seeing  the  end.  He 
argues  that  God's  willingness  to  shew  him  the 
beginning,  is  a  pledge  of  his  willingness  to  shew 
him  all.  We  may  all  use  this  argument.  Thou, 
who  hast  forgiven  me  past  sin,  wilt  thou  not  forgive 
all  present  and  all  future  sin  ?  "Being  confident 
of  this  very  thing,  that  he  who  hath  begun  a  good 
work  in  you,  will  perform  it  until  the  day  of 
Christ"  (Phil.  i.  6).  The  second  part  of  his  argu- 
ment is,  that,  to  stop  here,  would  leave  so  much 
undiscovered  of  his  greatness  and  mighty  hand, 
that,  for  the  sake  of  the  glory  to  be  unfolded,  and 
the  power  to  be  revealed,  he  might  expect  to  be 
allowed  to  enter.  So  Great  is  the  undiscovered 
glory  of  God,  and  so  desirous  is  God  to  reveal  it  to 
us,  that  we  may  use  this  argument  with  him  re- 
specting anything  we  desire.  The  third  argument 
looks  at  the  very  little  already  seen, — only  a 
glimpse.  Moses  pleads  this  tittle,  and,  because  of 
it,  asks  to  enter  Canaan.  He  had  seen  much  of 
God's  power,  yet  he  speaks  as  if  it  were  little;  not 


LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND.  429 

as  if  undervaluing  the  past,  but  still  feeling  as  if  it 
were  comparatively  nothing.  So.  all  that  we  have 
tasted  hitherto  is  small.  It  is  in  the  ages  to  come 
that  he  is  to  shew  the  exceeding  riches  of  his 
grace;  and  hence  we  may  call  the  past  a  little 
thing,  and  use  it  as  an  argument  with  God.  We 
might,  perhaps,  shrink  from  this,  were  it  not  that 
we  call  to  mind  his  unspeakable  gift ;  and,  measur- 
ing other  gifts  with  this,  we  may  speak  of  them  as 
small.  We  may  argue,  the .  blessings  we  have  re- 
ceived are  large,  when  we  consider  ourselves  and 
our  demerit;  but,  when  measured  with  that  gift 
which  has  purchased  everything  for  us,  and  which 
is  the  pledge  of  all,  they  are  as  nothing.  Let  not 
the  greatness  of  the  blessings  sought  discourage  us ; 
rather  let  us  deal  with  them  as  Moses  did,  and, 
pointing  to  their  greatness,  make  that  greatness  our 
plea.  It  is  a  light  thing  with  God  to  give  us  any- 
thing or  everything.  Let  us  ask,  and  let  us  expect 
the  best  gifts, — knowing  that  he  will  do  for  us 
exceeding  abundantly,  above  all  we  ask  or  think. 

III.  God's  answer. — It  is  not  what  we  should 
have  expected.  It  falls  heavily  on  us,  and  it  must 
have  fallen  still  more  heavily  on  the  old  man's  ear. 
It  sounds  stern  to  us.  Yet  it  is  the  answer  of 
wisdom  and  love.  Three  things  are  recorded  here. 
( 1 .)  The  anger.  God  was  angry  at  Moses,  or  rather, 
he  had  been  so ;  and  the  reasons  for  it  were  as 
strong  now  as  at  the  first.  Israel  had  provoked 
Moses,   and    Moses   had   provoked   God.     Israel's 


\ 


430  LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

conduct  had  roused  Moses  to  speak  and  act  unad- 
visedly, so  that  he  dishonoured  God  before  all 
Israel.  This  public  act  of  sin  cannot  be  passed 
over,  even  in  Moses ;  for,  if  God  passed  over  offences 
in  Moses  when  he  was  visiting  them  on  the  people, 
what  would  be  said  ?  This  great  dishonour  done 
to  God  by  Moses,  though  at  the  close  of  a  long  life 
of  consistent  service,  must  be  publicly  condemned. 
This  is  the  anger  spoken  of.  Moses  is  not  to  be 
cut  off  with  the  rebels,  nor  to  have  a  grave  in  the 
wilderness ;  but  some  notice  must  be  taken  of  his 
sin.  God  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty.  (2.) 
The  refusal.  The  anger  leads  to  refusal  of  the  peti- 
tion. Often  had  the  petition  been  presented  and 
refused ;  now  it  is  presented  and  refused  for  the 
last  time.  "  He  would  not  hear  me!"  Strange 
words  these  respecting  God  and  his  treatment  of 
the  prayer  of  a  saint, — "  He  would  not  hear  me  !" 
Oh,  with  what  feelings  of  abasement  must  Moses 
have  listened  to  this  last  refusal !  Such  a  refusal 
from  One  who  had  hitherto  denied  him  nothing, 
from  One  who  had  so  freely  forgiven  all  his  iniqui- 
ties !  How  solemnly  would  he  feel,  in  that  hour, 
the  necessity  of  such  a  testimony  against  the  sins 
of  his  saints !  How  bitterly  did  that  refusal  call 
his  sin  to  remembrance  !  (3.)  The  prohibition. 
"  Let  it  suffice  thee ;  speak  no  more  unto  me  of  this 
matter."  This  is  the  final  closing  of  the  whole 
question,  the  sealing  of  Moses's  lips.  He  had, 
doubtless,  often  spoken  to  God  on  the  subject ;  but 
now  he  is   forbidden    even  to  speak   of  it  again. 


LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND.  431 

There  is  something  severe  in  this  check ;  yet  there 
is  something  very  parental.  It  shews  the  intimate 
terms  on  which  God  was  pleased  to  be  with  Moses ; 
so  that,  when  His  child  grew  too  importunate,  He 
lays  his  hand  upon  his  lips,  with,  Hush,  speak  no 
more  on  that  subject.  God  is  not  a  man  that  he 
should  lie.  His  purpose  must  stand.  But  Oh, 
what  an  idea  of  the  efficacy  of  prayer  must  Moses 
have  had,  when  he  thought  by  it  to  change  the 
purpose  of  God  !  This  was  more  than  moving 
mountains.  And  how  much  God  must  delight  in 
importunity,  when  he  lets  it  go  so  far,  and  only 
checks  it  at  the  last  with  a  rebuke  so  gracious  and 
gentle  ! 

IV.  God's  condescending  grace. — Entrance  is  de- 
nied, but  a  full  vision  of  the  land  is  granted  (ver. 
27).  He  strains  his  purpose  (if  one  may  speak  so) 
as  far  as  possible,  without  breaking  it.  The  actual 
request  is  denied,  but  something  as  like  it,  and  as 
near  to  it,  as  might  be,  is  accorded.  He  takes  him 
to  the  top  of  Pisgah,  one  of  the  highest  of  the 
mountains  of  Moab,  and  from  it  he  shews  him  the 
whole  land.  Looking  westward,  he  sees  Jerusalem, 
and  Bethlehem,  and  Bethel,  with  the  terraced  hills 
of  Benjamin  and  Ephraim  stretching  away  in  the 
grey  distance,  to  the  great  sea.  Northward,  he 
sees  the  wooded  vale  of  Jordan,  with  its  forests  of 
palms  and  pomegranates, — the  fruitful  heights  of 
Galilee  and  Gilead,  up  to  the  snowy  peaks  of 
Lebanon,   and  "that  goodly  mountain,"  Hermon. 


432  LOXGIXGS  FOR  THE  LAXD. 

Southward,  he  sees  the  wooded  hills  of  Judah,  with 
the  vineyards  of  Eshcol,  and  the  olive  heights  of 
Kirjath-Arba  in  the  distance,  and  perhaps  the  rising 
table-lands  around  Beersheba.  Eastward,  he  sees 
the  forests  and  pastures  of  Amnion,  already,  m 
part,  under  the  dominion  of  Israel.  The  whole 
compas3  of  the  land  he  is  permitted  to  gaze  upon, 
that  he  may  have  a  taste  of  Israel's  long-promised 
inheritance.  And  Oh,  with  what  intensity  of  gaze 
and  yearning  of  spirit  must  he  have  viewed  that 
fair  expanse  of  scene  ! 

Thus  far  grace  condescends,  shewing  us  to  what 
lengths  God  can  go,  in  answering  prayer,  even 
when  a  purpose  of  his  own  stands  in  the  way. 
How  rich  must  have  been  that  taste  of  grace  to 
Moses,  after  the  refusal  he  had  received  !  How 
deep  his  sense  of  the  parental  tenderness,  the  lov- 
ing condescension,  indicated  in  this  !  The  denial 
of  the  request  seems  only  to  furnish  a  new  oppor- 
tunity for  a  manifestation  of  love,  tenderer  and 
more  indulgent,  than  could  have  been  given  by 
the  granting  of  the  prayer.  What  an  indulged 
and  favoured  child  does  Moses  seem,  even  in  this 
very  scene  of  apparent  sternness  !  0  love  that 
passeth  knowledge  !  0  condescension  of  God,  to 
what  depths  of  indulgent  tenderness  wilt  thou 
not  stoop  ! 

Take  these  three  closing  lessons. 

1.  What  one  sin  can  do. — One  sin  cost  Adam 
Paradise  ;  one  sin  costs  Moses  Canaan.  In  the 
case  of  Moses  it  is  the  more  startling,  because  it  is 


LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND.  433 

a  forgiven  sin,  and  he  is  a  forgiven  sinner.  His 
sin  is  forgiven,  yet  it  leaves  a  stain  behind  it  ;  it 
traces  a  testimony  to  its  unutterable  evil  on  the 
person  of  the  sinner.  It  could  not  cost  him  the 
heavenly  inheritance  ;  the  everlasting  covenant 
and  God's  electing  love  had  secured  that  uncon- 
ditionally and  indefeasibly.  But  it  costs  him  the 
earthly  ;  for  God  must  give  public  testimony 
against  a  sin  publicly  committed.  0  saint,  give 
heed  to  thy  ways  !  Thy  inconsistencies  may  cosl 
thee  dear.  They  cannot  close  the  kingdom  on  you ; 
the  blood  that  bought  you  has  bought  the  kingdom, 
for  you  :  but  they  may  bring  you  down  to  a  lower 
level ;  they  may  dim  the  lustre  of  your  raiment ; 
they  may  take  out  some  of  the  gems  of  your  diadem. 
0  man  of  God,  beware  of  sin.  Keep  thyself  pure. 
Walk  and  speak  circumspectly.  Follow  the  Lord 
fully. 

2.  What  God's  inflexibility  is. — He  cannot  change. 
He  cannot  call  that  no  sin  which  is  sin  ;  nor  that 
a  small  sin  which  is  a  great  sin ;  nor  that  a  private 
sin  which  was  a  public  sin.  His  purpose  is  not  the 
easy,  pliable,  changeable  thing  which  ours  is.  He 
is  the  God  only  wise,  only  righteous,  only  mighty, 
and  is,  therefore,  above  all  such  vacillations.  He 
is  without  variableness  or  shadow  of  turning  ;  the 
same  yesterday,  to- day,  and  lor  ever.  0  saint, 
remember  that  thou  hast  to  do  with  a  holy  and 
unchangeable  God  !  0  sinner,  think  that  thou 
hast  also  to  do  with  him,  and  that  this  inflexibility 
is,  as  yet,  all  against  thee  !     He   will   not   alter 

e  e 


434         LONGINGS  FOR  THE  LAND. 

either  his  law  or  his  gospel  to  suit  you.  You 
must  take  them  as  they  are,  or  perish  for  ever ! 
It  is  true  that  he  who  believeth  shall  be  saved  ;  it 
is  as  true  that  he  who  believeth  not  shall  be 
damned  ! 

3.  What  the  grace  of  God  is. — Many  waters 
cannot  quench  it,  nor  the  floods  drown  it.  To  what 
lengths  it  will  go,  in  order  to  pardon  a  sinner  or  to 
bless  a  saint  !  Believer,  be  strong  in  the  grace 
that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  !  Unbelieving  man,  take 
refuge  now  in  that  rich  grace  which  is  still  held 
out  to  thee,  for  the  forgiveness  of  all  thy  sins, 
and  for  the  bestow ment  of  blessings,  and  joys,  and 
hopes  ;  which  will  make  thee  richer  than  Israel 
with  his  earthly  Canaan  ;  gladder  than  Moses  with 
his  bright  vision  of  the  land  flowing  with  milk 
and  honey ! 


SERMON  L. 

CHRIST   AND   THE   NEW   CREATION. 

"  If  any  man  (one)  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new  creature  (there  is  a  new 
creation  to  him) ;  old  things  are  passed  away ;  behold,  all  things  are  be- 
come new." — 2  Cor.  v.  17. 

It  is  usual  to  make  this  affirmation  of  the  apostle 
refer  merely  to  the  change  of  nature  which  takes 
place  in  conversion.  For  then  the  renewal  of  mans 
whole  being  is  effected  ;  the  "  inner  man  "  under- 
goes a  total  transformation  ;  the  old  man  passes 
away,  and  the  new  man  comes  in  his  place.  In  all 
parts  of  being  we  experience  a  change,  save  in  these 
"  vile  bodies/'  whose  renewal  is  not  to  be  looked 
for  till  the  appearing  of  the  Lord. 

That  the  words  include  and  imply  all  this  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  For  all  that  is  excellent  in  the 
matter  of  restoration  must  begin  with  the  individual 
man,  and  must  begin,  too,  with  the  innermost 
region  of  the  individual  man.  Hence  it  is  written, 
"  Except  a  man  be  born  again  he  cannot  see,  the 
kingdom  of  God,"  intimating  that  all  true  connec- 
tion with  the  coming  kingdom  must  begin  with 
personal  renewal. 

"  In  Christ,"  "  a  new  creature,"  how  much  do 
these  words  imply  !  How  complete  the  inward 
transformation  which  they  describe !     What  cou- 

4.",.-, 


436  CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

demnation  do  they  pronounce  upon  the  shallow, 
meagre  religion  so  common  among  us,  making  us 
feel  that  hardly  any  description  of  its  professors 
could  be  more  exaggerated  or  unreal  than  that  of 
being  "  in  Christ/'  and  "new  creatures."  Take 
yon  member  of  the  Church.  He  wears  the  garb 
and  bears  the  name  of  Christ.  He  is  a  fair  aver- 
age specimen  of  a  large  class.  He  has  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  Christian  ;  yet  he  is  fond  of  the 
world  ;  he  grasps  at  its  gold  ;  he  loves  its  fashion- 
able gaiety  ;  he  reads  its  novels  ;  he  frequents  its 
haunts  of  amusement  ;  he  enjoys  its  company  ;  he 
relishes  its  foolish  talking  and  jesting  ; — is  he  "  a 
new  creature/'  is  he  "in  Christ  Jesus?"  Is  it 
possible  that,  with  so  much  wTorldiiness,  so  much 
selfishness,  so  much  self-indulgence,  so  much  pleas- 
ing of  the  flesh,  he  can  have  been  "begotten  again," 
whatever  his  profession  may  be  ? 

"In  Christ!"  How  mighty  the  expression  ! 
How  singular,  yet  how  exact  the  description  ! 
"  In  Christ,"  then,  out  of  the  world.  "  In  Christ," 
then,  out  of  self!  "In  Christ,'"'  then,  no  more  in 
the  flesh,  no  more  in  sin,  no  more  in  vanity,  no 
more  in  darkness,  no  more  in  the  crooked  paths  of 
1  he  god  of  this  world.  "  A  new  creature  !  " — then, 
fronl  the  very  root  of  being,  upward  throughout  all 
its  branches,  a  marvellous  change  has  taken  place, 
a  change  which  nothing  can  fitly  describe,  save  the 
creating  of  all  things  out  of  nothing  at  the  begin- 
ning, or  the  new-creating  of  this  corrupted  world 
into  a  glorious  earth  and  heaven,  when  the  Lord 


CIIRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  437 

returns  to  take  possession  of  it  as  his  kingdom  for 
ever.  "  A  new  creature  !" — then  old  feelings,  old 
habits,  old  tastes,  old  hopes,  old  joys,  old  sorrows, 
old  haunts,  old  companionships, — all  are  gone  ! 
Old  things  have  passed  away,  all  things  have  be- 
come new.  Christ  in  us,  and  we  in  Christ, — how 
thorough  and  profound  the  change  must  have  been  S 
"  Christ  formed  in  us,"  nay,  "  in  us  the  hope  of 
glory ; "  and  we  created  in  Christ  unto  good  works 
after  the  very  likeness  of  incarnate  Godhead, — how 
inconceivably  glorious  the  renewal, — the  transfigu- 
ration wrought  in  us, — for  nothing  short  of  trans- 
figuration is  it,  considered  even  in  its  general  and 
most  common  aspect. 

But  the  expression  is  a  peculiar  one,  and  worthy 
of  our  careful  notice.  It  is  not,  "  If  any  man  be  a 
new  creature,  he  is  in  Christ  Jesus;  as  if  the  being 
in  Christ  were  merely  a  result  of  his  being  a  newr 
creature  ;  but  it  is,  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is 
a  new  creature  ; "  implying  that  it  is  his  inbeing  in 
Christ  that  makes  him  a  new  creature,  and  that  this 
newness  of  being  springs  from  his  being  in  Christ. 
It  is  the  soil  of  paradise  alone  that  can  produce  the 
trees  of  righteousness,  so  it  is  our  being  "  rooted  in 
Christ "  that  gives  birth  and  growth  to  the  new 
creation.  It  is  not  the  tree  that  makes  the  soil, 
L)ut  the  soil  the  tree.  What  would  even  the  vine, 
or  the  fig,  or  the  pomegranate,  be,  if  planted  on  the 
bare  rock,  or  the  salt,  grey  sand  ?  Let  us  then 
mark  the  words, — "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is 
a  new  creature/'     It  is  his  grafting  into  Christ  that 


438  CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

has  made  him  what  he  is.  Christ  himself  is  the 
soil  in  which  the  Holy  Spirit  plants,  with  his  own 
hand,  the  trees  that  grow  up  and  flourish  in  the 
courts  of  our  God. 

But  the  words  are  even  more  peculiar  than  our 
translation  shews.  Literally  rendered,  they  give 
this  sense,  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  there  is  a  new 
creation ," — that  is,  a  new  creation  is  the  result  ;  a 
creation  not  less  perfect  or  majestic  than  that  which 
the  prophet  announces,  "  Behold,  I  create  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth  ; "  or  than  that  which 
Christ  himself  proclaims,  when  it  is  said,  ' '  He  that 
sat  upon  the  throne  said,  Behold,  I  make  all  things 
new."  Thus,  then,  in  the  case  of  the  man  that  is 
in  Christ  Jesus,  there  is  "  a  new  creation," — a  new 
creation  within,  a  new  creation  without, — a  new 
creation  already  in  part  accomplished,  but  waiting 
its  blessed  consummation  when  the  great  Creator 
returns  in  glory  to  complete  his  handiwork  within 
and  without,  in  soul  and  in  body,  in  heaven  and 
in  earth. 

Let  us  look,  then,  at  this  new  creation,  first,  as 
it  is  within  us ;  and  secondly,  as  it  is  without  us. 

I.  The  new  creation  within. — This  I  do  not  con- 
fine to  the  mere  renewing  of  our  moral  nature.  It 
seems  to  take  a  wider  range. 

(1.)  First  of  all,  it  points  to  our  new  standing  de- 
fore  God.  If  I  be  a  new  creature  in  Christ,  th.cn  I 
stand  before  God,  not  in  myself,  but  in  Christ  He 
sees  no  longer  me,  but  only  him  in  whom  I  am, — 


CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  439 

him  who  represents  me,  Christ  Jesus,  my  substi- 
tute and  surety.  In  believing,  I  have  become  so 
identified  with  the  Son  of  his  love,  that  the  favour 
with  which  he  regards  him  passes  over  to  me,  and 
rests,  like  the  sunshine  of  the  new  heavens,  upon 
me.  In  Christ,  and  through  Christ,  I  have  ac- 
quired a  new  standing  before  the  Father.  I  am 
"  accepted  in  the  beloved."  My  old  standing,  viz., 
that  of  distance,  and  disfavour,  and  condemnation, 
is  wholly  removed,  and  I  am  brought  into  one  of 
nearness,  and  acceptance,  and  pardon :  I  am  made 
to  occupy  a  new  footing,  just  as  if  my  old  one  had 
never  been.  Old  guilt,  heavy  as  the  mountain, 
vanishes;  old  dread,  gloomy  as  midnight,  passes 
off;  old  suspicion,  dark  as  hell,  gives  place  to  the 
joj'ful  confidence  arising  from  forgiveness  and  recon- 
ciliation, and  the  complete  blotting  out  of  sin.  All 
things  are  made  new.  I  have  changed  my  stand- 
ing before  God;  and  that  simply  in  consequence  of 
that  oneness  between  me  and  Christ,  wrhich  has 
been  established,  through  my  believing  the  record 
given  concerning  him.  I  come  to  him  on  a  new 
footing,  for  I  am  "  in  Christ,"  and  in  me  there  has 
been  a  new  creation. 

(2.)  It  points  to  our  new  relationship  to  God.  If  I 
am  a  new  creature,  then  I  no  longer  bear  the  same 
relationship  to  God.  My  old  connection  has  been 
dissolved,  and  a  new  one  established.  I  was  an 
alien  once,  I  am  now  a  son  ;  and  as  a  son,  have  the 
privilege  of  closest  fellowship.  Every  vestige  of 
estrangement  between  us  is  gone.     At  every  point, 


440  CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

instead  of  barriers  rising  up  to  separate  and  repel, 
there  are  links,  knitting  us  together  in  happiest, 
closest  union.  Enmity  is  gone  on  my  part,  displea- 
sure on  his.  He  calls  me  son,  I  call  him  Father. 
Paternal  love  conies  down  on  his  part,  filial  love 
goes  up  on  mine.  The  most  entire  mutual  confi- 
dence has  been  established  between  us.  No  more 
a  stranger  and  a  foreigner,  I  am  become  a  fellow- 
citizen  with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of 
God,  every  cloud  being  withdrawn  that  could  cast 
a  single  shadow  upon  the  simple  gladness  of  our 
happy  intercourse.  There  has  been  truly  a  new 
creation ;  "  old  things  have  passed  away,  all  things 
have  become  new."  Our  new  relationship  is  for 
eternity.  He  is  eternally  my  Father;  and  1  am 
eternally  his  son. 

(3 .)  It  points  to  the  spiritual  renewal  of  the  whole 
inner  man.  In  this  respect  the  new  creation  has 
done  wonders  indeed.  It  has  not  only  broken  my 
chains,  and  given  me  the  liberty  of  the  heavenly 
adoption,  but  it  has  altered  the  whole  frame  and 
bent  of  my  being,  so  that,  as  formerly,  by  the  law 
of  my  old  nature,  I  sought  the  things  beneath,  so 
now,  by  the  necessity  of  my  new  nature,  I  seek  the 
things  above.  Sin  has  become  hateful,  holiness 
supremely  attractive.  The  flesh  has  lost  its  power, 
the  Spirit  has  gotten  dominion.  The  vision  has 
been  purged,  so  that  now  I  see  everything  as  with 
a  new  eye ;  the  evil,  with  an  eye  that  loathes  it ; 
the  good,  with  an  eye  that  loves  it.  I  approach 
everything   with   new   feelings,    new  tastes,    new 


CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  441 

sympathies  and  antipathies.  I  behold  everything 
in  a  new  light,  and  from  a  new  position  and  point 
of  view.  Myself,  this  world,  the  world  to  come, 
God  and  Christ,  and  the  everlasting  joys, — all  these 
are  to  me  now  what  they  have  never  been  before. 
My  whole  inner  man  has  changed  respecting  them. 
There  has  b-2un  a  new  creation. 

Oh,  the  unimaginable  blessedness  of  those  on 
wrhom  this  new  creation  has  taken  place.  Oh,  the 
unutterable,  the  endless  misery  of  those  on  whom 
no  change  has  passed,  in  whom  old  things  still  re- 
main, and  who  shall  be  left  for  ever  to  the  dominion 
of  that  old  nature,  in  which  there  is  the  love  of  sin 
and  the  hatred  of  Christ,  and  the  enmity  to  God, 
and  all  that  can  fill  the  soul  with  woe  and  dark- 
ness ;  all  that  can  create  a  hell  to  man  or  devil, — a 
a  hell  within  and  a  hell  without ;  a  hell,  with  its 
consuming  fire  and  its  everlasting  curse;  a  hell, 
with  its  despair  and  darkness,  and  incurable  re- 
morse ;  a  hell,  with  all  the  memories  of  quickened 
conscience,  and  the  stings  of  its  undying  worm ;  a 
hell,  with  its  separation  from  heaven  and  all  holy 
beings ;  a  hell,  with  its  weeping,  and  wailing,  and 
gnashing  of  teeth  ! 

II.  We  speak,  in  the  second  place,  of  the  new  crea- 
tion without.  What  we  have  already  said  regarding 
the  new  creation  is  certainly  contained  in  the 
apostle's  words  ;  but  it  does  not  exhaust  them. 
There  is  more  behind  ;  and  in  reading  the  passage 
in  its  whole  connection,  we  are  made  to  feel  as  if 


442  CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

its  special  reference  were  to  the  new  creation  with- 
out,— the  new  creation  which  we  look  for  at  the 
coming  of  the  Lord.  In  this,  the  words  find  their 
complete  fulfilment.  This  only  exhausts  or  fills  up 
the  expression,  "  Tliero  is  a  new  creation."  This 
only  rightly  satisfies  the  description,  "  Old  things 
are  passed  away  ;  behold,  all  things  are  become 
new." 

And  this  is  truly  the  manner  of  Scripture.  It 
makes  use  of  an  expression  whose  vast  compass 
includes  a  great  range  of  kindred  objects.  It  takes 
up  a  figure  which  will  apply  to  the  whole  of  a 
particular  process,  or  series  of  steps,  and  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  circumstances,  we  may  use  to  denote 
the  beginning  or  the  end,  the  first  small  unfolding 
or  the  perfect  consummation,  of  which  that  first 
unfolding  was  the  germ,  or  root,  or  seed.  Thus 
the  word  ''redemption"  is  used  ;  sometimes  refer- 
ring  to  the  first  step  of  that  process, — the  plucking 
us  out  of  the  prison  of  the  strong  one, — and  some- 
times to  the  glorious  summing-up,  in  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  body  and  the  installation  into  the 
kingdom.  In  like  manner  "  salvation  "  is  used,  so 
that  in  one  place  we  are  said  to  be  already  saved, 
in  believing  ;  at  another  time,  we  are  said  to  be 
waiting  for  a  salvation  which  the  mighty  Saviour 
is  to  bestow  on  us  when  he  "  appears  the  second 
time,  without  sin,  unto  salvation."  Thus  the  new 
creation  comprehends  everything  which  that  word 
can  denote, — the  renewal  of  the  inner  man  at  con- 
version, the  ^restoration  of  the  outer  man  at  the 


CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  443 

resurrection  of  the  just,  the  introduction  into  that 
kingdom  of  glory  which  is  to  consist  of  "new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth."  The  apostle's  words 
would  thus  signify,  not  merely  that  if  any  man  be 
in  Christ  he  is  made  new  within,  but  if  any  man 
be  in  Christ  he  is  made  an  inheritor  of  the  new 
creation,  an  heir  of  God,  and  a  joint-heir  with 
Christ  Jesus.  There  has  been  a  new  creation 
within,  and  its  counterpart,  the  new  creation  with- 
out, is  as  certainly  his  inheritance.  The  one  is 
the  beginning  and  earnest  of  the  other.  The  in- 
dwelling Spirit,  who  is  the  author  of  the  new  crea- 
tion, is  the  earnest  of  the  inheritance,  until  the 
redemption  of  the  purchased  possession,  and  by 
him  we  are  sealed  unto  the  clay  of  redemption. 

But  how  is  it,  then,  that  the  apostle  speaks  of 
this  new  creation  as  past  already,  whereas  it  is  yet 
to  come  ?  For  the  same  reason,  and  in  the  same 
way,  that  he  speaks  of  our  "having  received  a 
kingdom,"  whereas  the  kingdom  is  yet  future  ;  of 
our  being  made  kings  and  priests,  whereas  our 
kingship  and  priesthood  are  not  yet  realised  ;  of 
our  having  "  come  to  mount  Zion,  to  the  city  of 
the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,"  whereas 
we  are  only  on  our  way  to  these  ;  of  our  being 
seated  with  Christ  in  heavenly  places,  whereas  we 
are  still  sojourners  on  earth.  In  these  passages  we 
are  represented  as  actually  having  that,  which  will, 
ere  long,  be  ours  ;  we  are  spoken  of  as  actually  in 
the  midst  of  scenes,  which  are  shortly  to  compass 
us  about.     We  are  said  and  supposed  to  be  where 


4^4  CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION". 

faith  places  us, — faith,  which  "  is  the  substance  of 
things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen." 
So  powerful  and  so  intense  is  the  anticipation  of 
faith,  that  what  is  future  becomes  present,  nay, 
past  ;  what  is  invisible  becomes  visible,  what  is  far 
off  becomes  nigh. 

In  the  passage  before  us,  then,  the  apostle  at 
once  carries  us  forward  into  the  midst  of  promised 
glory.  If  we  are  in  Christ,  then  are  we  not  only 
where  he  is  just  now,  at  the  Fathers  right  hand, 
but  where  he  shall  be  hereafter,  when  he  comes  to 
make  all  things  new.  To  be  in  Christ  is  to  be  in 
the  midst  of  that  new  creation,  which  is  to  come 
forth  from  the  ruins  of  these  old  heavens  and  this 
worn-out  earth.  If  any  be  in  Christ,  then  to  him 
the  new  creation  has  come, — "  Old  things  are 
passed  away  ;  behold,  all  things  are  become  new." 
He  is  not  so  much  one  dwelling  in  this  vallev  of 
tears,  or  even  one  looking  from  the  hills  of  Moab, 
to  survey  the  land  of  his  inheritance  ;  he  is  like 
one  who  has  already  reached  his  glorious  home, — 
who  sees  around  him  the  perfections  of  the  new 
creation, — to  whom  old  things  have  passed  away, 
and  all  things  have  been  made  new,  and  who  is 
looking  back  upon  this  land  of  the  storm  and  the 
curse,  as  one  who  has  escaped  its  evils,  and  on  the 
wings  of  a  dove  has  found  his  way  to  the  city  of 
peace,  and  laid  himself  down  upon  the  banks  of  the 
pure  river,  clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the 
throne  of  Cod  and  of  the  Lamb.  Thus  faith  is 
taught  to  anticipate  the  glory,  and  to  dwell  in  the 


CHRIST  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  445 

midst  of  it,  as  if  it  had  actually  arrived  ;  so  that  if 
any  man  be  in  Christ,  to  him  the  new  creation  has 
already  come  ;  ;'01d  things  are  passed  away  ; 
behold,  all  things  are  become  new." 

If  these  things  be  so,  then  how  differently,  from 
from  what  we  too  often  do,  should  we  read  such 
chapters  as  the  twro  closing  ones  of  Revelation. 
It  is  not  imagination,  dwelling  upon  pictures,  as 
some  speak  ;  it  is  faith  conducting  us  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  reality.  It  is  not  a  prying  curi- 
osity, craving  after  excitement,  that  incites  us  to 
conjecture  or  speculation  as  to  what  we  shall  be 
hereafter  ;  it  is  faith  leading  us  into  the  many 
mansions,  and  bidding  us  dwell  there  even  now. 
It  is  not  visions  or  dreams,  giving  us  pictures  of 
the  unreal  ;  it  is  faith  transporting  us  at  once  into 
the  midst  of  the  real,  so  that  in  reading  Gods 
revelation  respecting  the  new  creation,  we  feel  as 
if  we  were  more  truly  and  sensibly  surrounded  by 
its  unseen  glories  than  by  all  that  we  here  touch, 
and  taste,  and  hear,  and  see. 

If  these  things  be  so,  then  what  manner  of  per- 
sons ought  we  to  be  in  all  holy  conversation  and 
godliness  ?  For  our  dwellings  are  not  now  outside 
the  courts  of  God,  or  merely  within  view  of  a  far- 
off  glory.  They  are  within  the  sanctuary,  nay, 
within  the  holy  of  holies.  Beside  the  mercy- seat, 
writhin  the  veil,  under  the  very  brightness  of 
Jehovah's  presence, — there  faith  places  us  ;  there 
we  pitch  our  tents  ;  there  we  spend  our  days. 
And  surely,  by  beholding  this  glory,  not  afar  off, 


446  CHRSIT  AND  THE  NEW  CREATION. 

but  nigh,  we  ought  to  be  changed  into  the  same 
image  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit 
of  the  Lord. 

To  be  in  Christ  Jesus  !  How  much  may  be 
expected  from  us,  in  all  holiness,  and  truth,  and 
conformity  to  the  will  of  God.  To  be  seated 
with  him  in  heavenly  places,  partakers  of  his  love 
and  throne, — what  ought  this  elevation  to  do  for 
us,  in  bringing  us  into  the  resemblance  of  him  at 
whose  side  we  are  seated  I  To  see  and  feel  our- 
selves so  surrounded  with  the  purity  and  glory  of 
the  new  creation,  as  that  the  new  heavens  and 
earth  seem  nearer  us,  and  more  closely  in  contact 
with  us,  than  this  present  evil  world, — what  a 
purifying  influence  ought  such  a  thought  to  exert 
upon  us  !  What  manner  of  persons  ought  we  to 
be  in  all  hory  conversation  and  godliness  ?  How 
entire  should  be  the  separation  between  us  and  a 
wrorld  such  as  this, — a  world  whose  influences  are 
all  unholy,  whose  tendencies  are  all  downward,  and 
whose  friendship  is  enmity  with  God.  If  we  be  in 
Christ,  then  its  old  things  have  passed  away, 
passed  out  of  sight,  and  are  to  us  among  the  things 
that  were,  but  now  are  not.  If  we  be  in  Christ, 
then  the  new  things  of  "  the  world  to  come ' 
have  taken  their  room,  and  are  to  us  the  great 
realities  which  occupy  both  eye  and  ear.  What, 
then,  have  we  to  do  with  sin,  with  the  flesh,  with 
the  vanities  of  so  vain  a  life  as  the  men  of  earth 
are  leading  ?  Our  "conversation," our  "citizenship," 
is  in  heaven.    How  consistent,  then,  ought  we  to  be, 


CHRIST  xlND  THE  NEW  CREATION.  4  i  7 

how  watchful,  how  circumspect  in  word  deed,  and 
that  men  may  know  how  completely  we  have 
broken  our  connection  with  this  present  evil  world. 
Our  relationship  to  the  new  creation,  "  the  in- 
heritance of  the  saints  in  light/'  is  close  and  sure  ! 
How  thoroughly  conformed  to  this  "  world  to 
come  "  ought  we  to  be  ! 

Again,  if  these  things  be  so,  how  little  ought  we 
to  be  moved  by  the  tribulations  that  attend  us. 
Offences  will  come,  sorrows  will  come,  burdens, 
cares,  annoyances,  thorns  in  the  flesh,  will  come. 
We  shall  be  tempted  ;  we  shall  suffer  ;  we  shall  be 
shot  at  by  the  archers  ;  we  shall  groan,  being  bur- 
dened ;  we  shall  be  weary  and  faint,  and  some- 
times heavy-hearted.  But  let  us  not  be  shaken. 
Let  none  of  these  things  move  us,  or  occasion 
aught  of  dismay  and  darkness,  as  if  all  were  going 
wrong  with  us.  Let  us  call  to  mind  the  new  crea- 
tion into  which  we  have  been  introduced.  Let  us 
look  around  us  on  its  glories,  and  go  upon  our  way 
rejoicing.  Why  should  we  be  cast  down  with  the 
changes  of  the  changing  earth,  seeing  the  un- 
changeable is  already  ours  ?  Why  should  we  be 
fretted,  and  vexed,  and  tossed  too  and  fro,  when 
old  things  have  passed  away,  and  all  things  have 
become  new?  Why  should  we  sigh,  and  weep, 
and  bow  down  the  head,  seeing  the  lines  nave 
fallen  unto  us  in  such  pleasant  places,  and  no 
goodly  a  heritage  is  ours  ? 


SERMON  LL 

APOSTOLIC   SIGHS. 


1  would  to  God  ye  did  reign,  that  we  also  might  reign  with  you."- 

1  Cor.  iv.  8. 


This  is  one  of  the  very  few  passages  in  which  the 
apostle  gives  vent  to  his  feelings  as  a  suffering  and 
injured  man.  Through  no  less  than  six  verses  here 
(8-13),  there  runs  the  utterance  of  a  solemn  sor- 
row,— we  might  almost  call  it  melancholy, — at  the 
contemplation  of  his  present  lot  as  an  apostle  of 
the  Lord. 

His  life  had  many  a  bitterness.  Danger,  weari- 
ness, contempt,  persecution,  hunger,  thirst,  naked 
ness,  buffeting,  reviling,  stoning,  bonds  ; — these 
were  its  chief  earthly  ingredients  ;  and  had  there 
not  been  something  heavenly,  compensating  for  all 
these,  he  would  have  been,  of  all  men,  most  miser- 
able. He  felt  the  sorrow  ;  for  conversion  had  not 
lifted  him  out  of  the  region  of  human  feeling  ;  yet, 
he  seldom  refers  to  it  ;  and  when  he  does,  it  is  more 
with  triumph  than  with  sadness  ;  as  when  he  says, 
"  I  reckon  that  the  sufferings  of  this  present  time 
are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that 
shall  be  revealed  in  us"  (Rom.  viii.  18.) 

Here  his  reference  to  his  sorrows  has  more  in  it 

448 


APOSTOLIC  SIGHS.  449 

of  sadness  than  elsewhere.  Yet  he  has  not  re- 
pented of  his  course  ;  he  is  not  ashamed  of  his 
apostleship  ;  he  is  willing  to  drink  even  a  bitterer 
cup  than  he  has  yet  tasted.  The  sadness  that  thus 
comes  is  altogether  natural,  and  shews  how  truly 
the  apostle  was  a  man  ;  a  man  of  like  passions 
with  ourselves.  We  get  a  passing  insight  into  the 
noble  soul,  and  learn  hew  profoundly  he  felt  the 
evils,  that,  like  the  waves  of  the  storm,  beat  upon 
him  without  ceasing  ;  and  how  oftentimes  his  heart 
was  like  to  break,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  joy 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory, 

He  does  not  draw  back,  nor  refuse  to  pay  the 
cost  of  apostleship.  He  accepts  the  present  hon- 
our and  the  coming  glory,  with  all  their  conditions 
and  penalties.  For  the  joy  set  before  him  he 
endures  the  shame.  But  he  feels  the  agony  ;  and 
Oh,  with  what  a  tone  of  serene,  yet  shaded  feeling  do 
we  hear  him  speak  these  words,  "  I  think  that  God 
hath  set  forth  us  the  apostles  last,  as  it  were  ap- 
pointed to  death  ;  for  we  are  made  a  spectacle 
unto  the  world,  and  to  angels,  and  to  men.  We 
are  fools  for  Christ's  sake,  but  ye  are  wise  in 
Christ  ;  we  are  weak,  but  ye  are  strong  ;  ye  are 
honourable,  but  we  are  despised.  Even  unto 
this  present  hour  we  both  hunger,  and  thirst, 
and  are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no 
certain  dwelling-place  ;  and  labour,  working  with 
our  own  hands  ;  being  reviled,  we  bless  ;  being 
persecuted,  we  suffer  it  ;  being  defamed,  we  en- 
treat ;  we    are  made  as  the    filth   of  the  world, 

Ff 


450  APOSTOLIC  SIGHS. 

and  are   the  offscouring  of  all  things  unto   this 
day." 

With  some,  I  fear,  there  is  more  than  the  apostle's 
sorrow.  They  do  not,  perhaps,  repent  having 
taken  up  the  cross  ;  but  they  shrink  sometimes 
from  what  it  has  brought  upon  them.  They 
counted  on  a  little,  but  it  has  come  to  much. 
They  gladly  took  up  the  cross,  but  they  had  not 
ascertained  its  weight  and  its  sharpness.  They 
were  prepared  for  some  bitterness  ;  bat  not  for  all 
this  gall  and  wormwood.  They  made  ready  for 
battle,  but  the  fight  has  proved  sorer  and  longer 
than  they  dreamed  of.  They  were  not  unwilling 
to  bear  shame  for  his  name  ;  but  the  reproach  has 
proved  heavier  than  they  can  bear.  They  knew 
that  they  were  to  meet  resistance  from  the  world  ; 
— but  not  all  this  enmity,  this  malignity,  this  mis- 
representation. They  did  not  refuse  sacrifice  and 
suffering ;  but  the  poverty,  the  disappointment, 
and  the  all  but  broken  heart,  have  gone  beyond 
their  calculations.  The  wounds  are  deeper,  the 
fiery  darts  are  sharper,  the  furnace  is  hotter,  the 
road  is  rougher,  the  hill  is  higher,  the  stream  is 
deeper,  than  they  had  thought. 

They  do  not  wish  they  had  not  become  Chris- 
tians ;  but  they  hardly  know  what  to  do,  nor  which 
way  to  turn.  They  submit,  but  they  do  not  count 
it  all  joy.  They  have  the  sadness  of  the  apostle, 
without  his  exulting  gladness.  His  was  but  half 
a  sorrow,  because  of  the  joy  ;  theirs  is  but  half  a 
joy,  because  of  the  sorrow.     In  such  a  case,  they 


APOSTOLIC  SIGHS.  451 

need  to  be  put  in  mind  of  the  apostolic  hope,  by 
which  the  primitive  Church  was  sustained,  lest 
Satan  should  get  an  advantage  over  them,  or  lest 
they  be  weary  and  faint  in  their  minds. 

There  is  another  class  of  Christians,  however,  of 
whom  Paul  here  more  especially  speaks.  They 
are  the  easy-minded  and  self-satisfied,  who  think 
themselves  full  and  rich.  They  have  not  been 
emptied  from  vessel  to  vessel,  and  so  they  have 
settled  on  their  lees.  They  are  not  Laodiceans, 
but  very  near  them  ;  they  are  not  foolish  virgins, 
but  very  like  them.  They  would  not  think  of  fol- 
lowing the  world  ;  but  they  do  not  like  the  idea  of 
confronting  and  condemning  it.  They  would  rather 
be  saved  from  the  ill-will  and  scorn  which  separa- 
tion from  its  vanities  and  gaieties  is  sure  to  produce ; 
all  the  while  enjoying  Christianity  at  their  firesides, 
and  congratulating  themselves  on  the  prudence  by 
means  of  which  they  have  succeeded  in  avoiding 
the  reproach,  without  relinquishing  their  profession. 
They  would  rather  not  expose  themselves  to  too 
much  shame,  for  over-zeal,  or  over-decision,  or 
over-boldness  in  the  cause  of  Christ.  A  little 
compromise  with  the  world,  they  think,  does  no 
harm.  A  proper  enjoyment  of  its  harmless  amuse- 
ments, they  are  persuaded,  is  of  great  benefit  to 
themselves,  and  of  wonderful  use  in  conciliating 
worldly  men,  and  smoothing  away  their  prejudices. 
They  look  with  no  small  dislike  upon  the  out- 
spoken fervour  of  fearless  single-eyed  disciples,  to 
whom  Christ  is  everything,  and  the  world  nothing ; 


452  APOSTOLIC  SIGHS. 

nay,  they  join  with  the  scoffer  in  reviling  these 
men  as  excited  enthusiasts  ;  professing  themselves 
the  best  of  Christians  all  the  while,  and  announcing 
that  the  religion  they  admire  is  unostentatious  and 
undemonstrative,  modest  and  retiring  ;  nay,  they 
grow  warm  in  denouncing  zeal  for  Christ,  and  never 
fail  to  add  that  these  over- zealous  Christians  do 
more  harm  than  good.  Of  such  it  is  that  the 
apostle  writes  these  words  of  solemn  rebuke, — 
"  Now  ye  are  full,  now  ye  are  rich,  ye  have 
reigned  as  kings  without  us."  And  it  is  in  refer- 
ence to  their  conduct  that  he  adds  these  other 
words  of  sorrowful  irony, — "  I  would  to  God  ye 
did  reign,  that  we  also  might  reign  with  you  ;" 
I  would  it  were  what  you  seem  to  think,  the  time 
of  the  kingdom  ;  I  would  that  the  day  of  reigning 
were  come,  that  we  might  be  delivered  from  these 
calamities  ;  but,  alas  for  us,  that  day  has  not  yet 
broken  ;  we  are  not  in  the  kingdom  yet,  but  only 
suffering  the  tribulation  on  the  wa}T  to  it. 

Let  us  now  ascertain  the  exact  teaching  of  these 
words. 

I.  There  is  a  reign  for  us. — We  are  made  kings 
and  priests  unto  God,  in  virtue  of  our  oneness  with 
him  who  is  our  King  and  Priest  as  well  as  God's 
King  and  Priest.  The  Church  is  a  royal  priesthood, 
a  noble  band  of  Melchisedecs,  each  one  of  which 
can  say  even  now,  "  We  have  received  the  king- 
dom that  cannot  be  moved."  In  unison  with  the 
host  above,  we  sing  not  only,  "Thou  hast  redeemed 


APOSTOLIC  SIGHS.  453 

us  by  thy  blood,"  but,  "We  shall  reign  on  the 
earth."  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be, 
— for  the  disguise  of  mortality  is  on  us, — but  we 
know  that  the  crown  of  life,  the  crown  of  righteous- 
ness, is  in  store  for  us,  and  that,  if  we  suffer,  we  shall 
also  reign.  Not  safety  merely,  nor  blessedness,  nor 
glory,  but  a  kingdom,  a  sceptre,  a  throne.  The 
world's  reign  is  now;  the  Church's  reign  is  coming. 
Satan  is  now  earth's  prince  ;  Christ  will  soon  be 
king. 

II.  That  reign  will  end  our  tribulation.  There  is 
first  the  suffering,  and  then  the  glory.  The  dawn 
of  the  glory  is  the  dispersion  of  the  clouds,  and  the 
stilling  of  the  storm.  For  that  glory  comes  from 
the  presence  of  the  glorious  one  ;  and  in  his  pre- 
sence there  can  be  no  mourning,  and  no  darkness. 
It  is  Ms  reign,  as  well  as  ours  ;  and  into  his  king- 
dom nothing  that  defileth  or  darkeneth  shall  enter. 
Were  that  era  still  the  time  of  his  absence,  we 
could  not  be  assured  of  its  unmingled  brightness  ; 
but  it  is  the  clay  of  his  presence,  and  that  is  the 
assurance  to  us  of  its  sorrowless  splendour.  There 
shall  be  no  night  there,  for  the  sun  goes  not  down. 
There  shall  be  no  more  curse,  for  the  Blessed  One 
is  there.  The  winter  is  past  ;  the  rain  is  over  and. 
gone  ;  the  clouds  return  no  more.  Not  the  king- 
dom only,  but  the  King,  has  come  ;  and  with  him 
all  his  saints.  The  last  battle  is  over  ;  the  usurper 
dethroned  and  bound  ;  mortality  is  swallowed  up 
of  life  ;  the  days  of  mourning  are  ended  ;  the  tears 


454  APOSTOLIC  SIGHS. 

are  wiped  away.  The  marriage  of  the  Lamb  is 
come  ;  the  Bride  and  the  Bridegroom  have  met  ; 
the  New  Jerusalem  has  descended  ;  Solomon  and 
Pharaoh's  daughter  are  upon  its  throne.  We  shall 
hear  no  longer  of  a  church  militant  and  a  church 
triumphant  ;  no  more  of  a  "divided  Christ/'  or  a 
"  divided  Church  ;"  part  weeping,  part  rejoicing  ; 
some  above,  some  below  ;  souls  in  heaven,  bodies 
in  the  grave ;  Christ's  redeemed  members  scattered 
everywhere.  All  this  is  over.  Separation,  dis- 
tance, death,  toil,  weariness,  sighing, — all  have 
fled  away.  The  year  of  the  redeemed  is  come. 
Their  reproach  is  ended ;  their  reigning  is  begun. 

III.  We  are  to  looh  and  long  for  that  reign. — 
When  the  apostle  says,  "  I  would  to  God  that  ye 
did  reign,  that  we  also  might  reign  with  you,"  he 
meant  to  say,  "  Oh  that  that  day  were  come  which 
ye  seem  to  think  has  arrived  already  ;  then  should 
we  and  you  rejoice  and  triumph  together."  He 
saw  nothing  on  this  side  of  that  reign  but  reproach 
and  tribulation.  Streaks  of  sunlight  there  might 
be,  but  not  the  day.  Hours  of  rest  might  relieve 
the  lifetime's  weariness,  but  "the  rest  that  re- 
maineth"  was  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  King. 

In  prosperous  days  the  Church  has  forgotten 
these  things  ;  becoming  contented  with  the  im- 
perfect and  the  mortal  ;  ceasing  to  sigh  for  the 
incorruptible  and  the  linden" led.  Hence  she  cannot 
be  trusted  with  ease.  This  has  always  been  to 
her  a  peril  and  a  snare.     In  gracious  wisdom  God 


APOSTOLIC  SIGHS.  455 

has  made  her  path  rough  and  her  cup  bitter  ;  that 
she  may  not  take  her  ease,  nor  tarry  by  the  way  ; 
but  set  her  affection  on  things  above. 

In  telling  us  of  the  kingdom,  God  meant  us  to 
think  much  of  it,  to  desire  it,  to  count  all  earth  a 
shadow  when  compared  to  it.  Our  eyes  are  to  be 
upward,  eastward,  watching  for  the  day.  Our 
"  hearts'  desire  and  prayer  "  is  to  be  for  the  hasten- 
ing of  the  kingdom.  For  the  Church's  sake,  as 
well  as  for  our  own,  we  are  to  plead  for  its  arrival. 
This  is  our  hope  ;  and  there  is  none  like  it !  These 
are  our  prospects,  and  what  is  there  here  that  can 
come  between  them  and  us !  It  is  not  sentimental- 
ism,  nor  fanaticism,  nor  fancy,  to  desire  the  king- 
dom. It  is  simple  faith  ;  that  faith  which  is  the 
substance  of  things  hoped  for.  Love,  too,  con- 
strains us  to  these  longings.  Yes,  love  ;  love  to 
the  king  compels  us  ;  for  while  the  expectation  of 
glory  to  ourselves  is  no  mean  nor  feeble  motive  ; 
yet,  above  and  beyond  this,  there  is  personal  at- 
tachment to  the  Lord  himself  ;  —  true-hearted 
loyalty  which  quickens  within  us  the  vehement 
longing  that  he  should  be  glorified  ! 


SERMON   LII. 


THE   CHURCH  S   AMEN. 

"  He  which  testifieth  these  things  saith,  Surely  I  come  quickly :  Ameu. 
Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus.  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be  with 
you  all.    Amen."— Eev.  xxii.  20,  21. 

It  is  "the  true  Witness"  that  speaks  here.  He 
speaks  from  heaven ;  and  not  to  his  apostles  merely, 
nor  to  the  seven  Asian  churches,  nor  to  the  saints 
of  his  own  age ;  but  to  us  in  these  last  times. 

This  is  the  final  burden  of  the  Church's  great 
prophet ;  and  these  last  words  of  his  are  heard,  not 
in  Jerusalem  or  its  temple,  by  crowds  of  listeners 
in  the  old  land  of  prophets ;  but  in  a  Gentile  island 
afar  off,  amid  desolate  silence;  as  if  to  intimate 
that  the  glory  had  departed  from  Israel,  and  that 
the  sure  word  of  prophecy,  though  still  issuing  from 
Jewish  lips,  must  no  longer  be  spoken  in  Israel's 
land.  The  voice  which  we  hear  is  that  of  "  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness ;"  and  speaking,  across  the 
waves  of  the  ^Egearj,  to  the  distant  nations  of 
earth,  and  to  the  ages  yet  to  come. 

Yes ;  the  Speaker  is  the  "  Faithful  Witness,"  the 

"  Amen,"  the  first-begotten  of  the  dead,  the  Alpha 

and  the  Omega ; — He  of  the  "golden  girdle"  (i.  13) ; 

and   the    "golden  candlesticks"   (i.   115);  and  the 

"seven   stars"    (i.  16);   and  the  "flaming  eyes" 
456 


the  church's  amen.  457 

(i.  14);  whose  "  voice  is  as  the  sound  of  many 
waters"  (i.  15).  It  is  He,  indeed,  "the  root  and 
the  offspring  of  David,  the  bright  and  morning 
star !" 

It  is  of  the  last  things  that  he  speaks ;  and  these 
concern  us  more  deeply,  as  the  ages  roll  by.  The 
time  has  been  long;  longer  than  the  church  be- 
lieved in  early  days ;  but  the  lapse  of  so  many  ages 
is  to  us  the  best  assurance,  that  the  time  of  tarrying 
is  drawing  to  a  close ;  that  the  night  is  far  spent, 
and  the  day  at  hand. 

There  are  five  last  things  here  which  form  the 
contents  of  this  final  burden :  the  last  testimony; 
the  last  prophecy ;  the  last  prayer ;  the  last  bless- 
ing; the  last  Amen. 

m 

I.  The  last  testimony. — The  whole  Bible  is  the 
testimony ;  for  in  it  Christ  is  both  the  teacher  and 
the  lesson,  the  witness  and  the  testimony.  But 
the  Bevelation  is  his  last  testimony ;  and  the  mar- 
vellous words  of  the  latter  part  of  this  chapter  are 
more  especially  so.  Let  the  Church  listen ;  let  the 
world  give  heed. 

Oh,  but  they  say  the  tongues  of  dying  men 
Enforce  attention,  like  deep  harmony. 

And  these  are  more  than  the  words  of  dying 
men.  They  are  Christ's  last  words  from  the  heaven 
of  heavens  ;  fraught  with  infinite  significance; 
breathing  both  love  and  terror,  like  the  very 
"  trump  of  God."  Terrible  is  the  warning,  "  He 
that  is  unjust,  let  him  be  unjust  still ;"  yet  winning 


458  the  church's  amen. 

is  the  grace,  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the 
water  of  life  freely."  Glorious  is  the  proclamation, 
"  I  am  the  root  and  the  offspring  of  David,  the 
bright  and  morning  star ;"  yet  blessed  the  attitude 
in  which  it  seeks  to  place  us,  "  The  Spirit  and  the 
bride  say,  Come  ;  and  let  him  that  heareth  say, 
Come."  Truly  this  final  testimony  is  the  fullest, 
the  most  startling  of  all.  It  sounds  like  the  voice 
of  the  last  trumpet. 

II.  The  last  prophecy. — "  Surely  I  come  quickly." 
Brief  but  distinct  is  this  announcement;  and  it 
comes  from  his  own  lips.  He  heralds  himself  and 
his  kingdom.  He  puts  the  trumpet  to  his  own 
mouth  to  sound  abroad  this  last  message,  "I  come!'' 
I  came,  and  I  come  !  I  who  came,  a*ad  departed, 
am  coming  again.  Yes,  I  myself!  Not  certain 
great  events,  whether  terrible  or  glorious;  not 
revolutions  merely,  or  wars,  or  the  overthrow  of 
kingdoms,  or  famines,  or  pestilences ;  but  I  myself 
in  person  !  Not  the  latter-day  brightness  only, 
nor  the  spread  of  truth,  nor  the  restoration  of 
Israel,  nor  the  conversion  of  the  world ;  but  I  my- 
self in  person !  Ah,  yes ;  this  is  the  one  mighty 
event  which  fills  up  the  vast  future  of  the  world's 
history,  and  makes  all  other  things  to  seem  as 
nothing.  "I  come  quicldij"  Here  is  something 
more.  He  will  lose  no  time ;  nor  delay  a  moment 
longer  than  is  absolutely  necessary.  He  will  not 
be  slack  concerning  his  promise  (2  Pet.  iii.  9) ;  he 
will  come,  and  not  tarry  (Heb.  x.  37.)     A  faithless 


the  church's  amen.  459 

church  shall  not  be  able  to  say,  "  My  Lord  delay eth 
his  coming"  (Luke  xii.  45) ;  nor  a  world  of  mockers 
to  ask,  "  Where  is  the  promise  of  his  coming" 
(2  Pet.  iii.  4)  ?  Yes;  "Surely  I  come  quickly." 
Appearances  may  indicate  no  such  thing;  the 
world's  sky  may  be  cloudless,  and  its  sea  smooth  j 
men  may  have  assured  themselves  of  prosperous 
days,  and  be  saying,  "  Peace  and  safety ;"  yet  surely 
he  cometh !  As  a  snare,  as  a  thief,  as  lightning, 
he  cometh  !  He,  the  very  Christ,  the  risen  Saviour, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth, — he  cometh  !  In  his  own  glory, 
in  his  Father's  glory,  with  his  mighty  angels,  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven,  King  and  Judge,  Conqueror  and 
Avenger,  Redresser  of  wrongs,  Opener  of  prison- 
doors,  Binder  of  Satan,  Renewer  of  creation,  Bride- 
groom of  his  Church,  Star  of  Jacob,  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness, Owner  of  the  golden  sceptre,  Wielder  of 
the  iron  rod,  Wearer  of  the  crowns  of  earth, — 
he  cometh  ! 

III.  The  last  prayer. — "  Amen.  Even  so  come, 
Lord  Jesus  ;"  or,  as  the  words  more  literally  run, 
"  Yes,  surely,  come,  Lord  Jesus  ; ';  for  the  words 
the  apostle  here  uses,  in  his  response,  are  the 
same  as  those  used  by  Christ  in  his  announcement ; 
as  if  he  caught  up  the  Master's  words  and  echoed 
them.  Thus  gladly  and  fervently  does  the  Church 
respond  to  the  promise  ;  as  one  who  felt  the  blank 
created  by  the  Lord's  absence,  and  welcomed  with 
her  whole  heart  the  intimation  of  his  return  ;  for 
she  is  her  beloved's  and  her  beloved  is  hers  ;  his 


460  the  church's  amen. 

desire  is  toward  her,  and  hers  is  toward  him.  This 
is  the  summing  up  of  her  petitions,  as  was  the 
seventy- second  Psalm  the  filling  up  of  all  David's 
prayers  (Ps.  lxxii.  20).  Are  oar  hearts,  like  hers, 
thus  beating  toward  the  Beloved  One  ?  Is  this 
the  burden  of  our  prayers  ?  Or,  at  least,  does 
this  petition  always  form  a  part  of  them  ?  Alas ! 
Is  not  this  the  petition  most  commonly  left  out  ? 
Is  not  the  Lord's  advent  the  thing  but  seldom 
prayed  for  ?  We  plead  for  the  coming  of  the 
kingdom,  but  not  for  the  arrival  of  the  King.  Yet 
this,  more  than  ever  in  these  last  days,  ought  to 
be  the  first  and  last  of  the  Church's  prayers  ;  for 
all  that  she  desires  for  herself,  for  the  world,  and 
for  her  Lord  himself,  is  comprised  in  this.  It  was 
the  beloved  disciple  that  first  burst  forth  with  this 
eager  response,  "  Amen.  Even  so,  come,  Lord 
Jesus."  The  words  came  from  the  inmost  soul  of 
him  who  had,  sixty  years  before,  leaned  on  the 
Master's  bosom.  Sad  because  of  the  long  absence, 
wearied  with  exile,  tired  with  persecution,  sore  at 
heart  because  of  the  backsliding  in  the  Churches, 
overwhelmed  with  the  terrific  announcements  he 
had  just  been  the  instrument  of  uttering  in  his 
island-prison,  he  quickly  took  up  the  glad  promise, 
and  responded,  "  Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus."  It 
ought  to  be  so  with  us.  We  have  many  things  to 
try  us,  and  to  make  us  long  for  the  arrival  of  the 
Lord.  We  have  this  vile  body  to  weigh  us  down. 
We  have  fightings  without  and  fears  within.  We 
have   sin  and  error  and  defection  in  the  Church. 


the  church's  amen.  461 

We  have  abounding  iniquity  in  the  world.  We 
have  dear  ones  that  have  been  laid  to  sleep  by 
Jesus,  in  the  grave,  to  await  resurrection  and  re- 
union. Shall  not  these  things,  enforced  by  per- 
sonal attachment  to  the  Lord  himself,  prompt  the 
unceasing  petition,  "Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus  ?" 

IV.  The  last  blessing. — "  The  grace  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  be  with  you  all."  Thus  the  Holy 
Spirit  shuts  up  the  volume  ;  and  the  beloved  dis- 
ciple sends  out  this  as  his  last  salutation  to  the 
saints  ;  as  if  he  could  ask  nothing  greater  for  the 
Church  on  earth  than  the  communication  of  the 
free-love  of  him  to  whom  he  here  gives  his  full 
designation,  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  It  was  on  this  free- 
love  that  we  took  our  stand  when  first  we  received 
the  Father's  testimony  to  the  beloved  Son  ;  and  it 
is  our  belief  of  this  free-love  that  makes  us  what 
we  are,  and  separates  us  from  a  world  to  whom 
this  free-love  is  nothing  ; — "  we  have  known  and 
believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  us."  A  small 
point  of  difference  this  may  seem  to  many  ;  but  in 
God's  estimation  everything  ; — the  belief  or  dis- 
belief of  the  free-love  of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost.  It  is  on  this  free-love  that  we  rest ;  it  is 
out  of  this  fountain  that  our  enjoyment  flows ;  and 
it  is  under  the  shadow  of  this  pillar- cloud  that  we 
pass  through  the  wilderness  to  the  city  of  habita- 
tion. Let  no  evil  heart  of  unbelief  separate  us 
from  this  grace,  or  make  it  seem  less  precious  and 
divine.     This  is  the  pure  river,  clear  as  crystal, 


462  the  church's  amen. 

proceeding  from  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb.  He  that  drinks  is  refreshed  for  evermore. 
What  then  can  an  apostle,  knowing,  as  John  did,  the 
contents  of  this  vessel  of  grace,  desire  more  for  the 
saints,  than  the  continued  possession  of  the  Mas- 
ter's grace.  It  is  this  that,  upon  its  calm  current, 
carries  into  the  soul  all  joy  and  strength,  all  health 
and  consolation ;  and  he  who  will  allow  these 
heavenly  waters  thus  to  pervade  him  will  lack 
nothing.  Earthly,  human  love,  is  of  all  things 
here  the  most  fitted  to  gladden  ;  how  much  more, 
then,  that  which  is  hp.nvenly  and  divine  !  It  is 
food,  and  water,  and  wine,  and  medicine  ;  it  is 
light,  and  air,  and  liberty,  and  refreshment;  and 
what  more  can  we  desire,  for  the  best  beloved  of 
our  hearts,  than  this  free-love  of  God  ;  or  what 
larger  prayer  can  we  breathe  out  towards  them 
than  this,  "  The  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  be 
with  you  ?  " 

V.  The  last  amen. — This  is  not  an  amen  to  this 
chapter  only,  or  this  book  only  ;  but  to  the  whole 
Bible  ;  of  which  the  burden,  from  Genesis  to  Re- 
velation, is  Jesus  Christ,  the  seed  of  the  woman. 
It  is  an  amen  to  the  prayer  for  the  grace  of 
Christ ;  it  is  an  amen  to  the  sigh  for  the  Lord's 
appearing.  It  is  an  amen  to  the  prophetic  an- 
nouncement of  all  the  glorious  and  all  the  terrible 
things  written  in  this  book.  It  is  the  concentrated 
utterance  of  the  Church's  longings  ;  her  glad  re- 
sponse to  all  that  God  has  spoken  :  the  subscrip- 


the  church's  amen.  403 

tion  of  her  name  to  her  belief  in  all  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  has  written  ;  the  summing  up  of  her  un- 
utterable groan.  How  much  does  this  amen  com- 
prise !  Faith,  hope,  and  love  are  in  it ;  and,  with 
these,  such  a  boundless  satisfaction  of  spirit  as  can 
only  get  vent  to  itself  in  that  one  brief  word,  which 
sums  up  all  the  aspirations  of  its  joy,  "Amen  and 
amen  ! " 

As  a  golden  clasp,  it  draws  together  and  fastens 
into  one  the  now  finished  parts  of  the  heavenly 
volume  ;  reminding  us  of  its  verity  and  perfection, 
its  fulness  and  its  accuracy,  as  the  record  not  only 
of  the  thoughts,  but  the  words  of  him  who  is  him- 
self the  Word,  the  Truth,  the  divine  Amen.  As 
God's  seal,  it  vouches  for  the  infallible  certainty  of 
Scripture  ;  as  man's  seal,  it  expresses  his  acqui- 
escence in  that  revelation,  as  well  as  his  confidence 
in  its  teachings  of  wisdom,  as  the  unchangeable  and 
the  true. 

We,  too,  in  this  last  age,  add  our  Amen,  as  did 
David  when  he  said,  "  The  prayers  of  David  the 
son  of  Jesse  are  ended."  Ours  is,  indeed,  but  a 
fragment  of  the  universal  amen  of  heaven  and 
earth,  one  note  of  the  Church's  triumphant  utter- 
ance in  the  day  when  all  shall  be  fulfilled  that  God 
has  written  from  the  beginning.  Still,  we  speak  it, 
as  the  setting  of  our  seal  to  the  truthfulness  of  that 
Holy  Spirit  by  whom  holy  men  of  old  spake  as 
they  were  moved.  Yes  ;  we  add  our  Amen  ; — 
solemn,  yet  joyful  ;  retrospective,  yet  also  prospec- 
tive ;  the  outbreathing  of  prayer,  yet  of  hope  as 


464  the  church's  amen. 

well ;  in  the  assurance,  that  what  we  read  is  no 
volume  of  speculation  or  opinion,  still  less  of  cun- 
ningly devised  fables ;  but  the  book  of  truth, — fixed, 
authentic,  divine, — the  one  genuine  book  of  un- 
mingled  truth  which  an  untrue  world  contains. 


THE   END. 


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